Tested
by Kizmet
Summary: [UltX] Random Walk 6: Remy and Belle's fledgling marriage is put to the test when Belle's first solo assassination goes disasterously wrong.
1. 1 of 14

**Tested**

Disclaimer: Characters and Premise are borrowed from the Marvel, I'm not making any money.

_The night of Remy and Belle's wedding..._

Jean-Luc Lebeau calmly took a set near the center of the impromptu dungeon that had been set up to contain his most recently acquired set of headaches. 

"Now dat yo're all settled down, I t'ink I should 'xplain m' position to yo'," Jean-Luc said looking around the room and trying for eye contact with the four sullen teenagers. "Dere be dozens of mutants like yourselves livin' in dis city, none of dem registered s' far as I know, and dey be livin' wit' deir human families who Magneto would hurt. A good percentage of dem be under m' protection. Yo' see how antics like yours ain't 'preciated here, neh?" 

The four unhappy looking teens shifted uncomfortably in their bonds, studiously ignoring him. 

Jean-Luc sighed theatrically. "I can't let yo' run loose an' I won' kill yo' or turn yo' over to de government, it's a dilemma, oui. I was hopin' yo' might help me find a compromise we'd all be able to live wit, 'less yo' like spendin' time here." 

The redheaded fire-wielder suggested an anatomical impossibility. Jean-Luc snorted, "Might be fun to try, mais I don' t'ink dat would 'solve dis little situation." Several members of the gang bit back laugher at that. 

Jean-Luc waited, being careful not to smile as he noticed the teens were actually considering possibilities this time. In hopes of encouraging the more civil air he said. "We haven' been formally 'ntroduced, I be Jean-Luc an' yo' are?" he prompted nodding toward the scowling teen handcuffed beneath a net full of rocks suspended precariously from the ceiling. 

The dark haired seventeen year old considered not answering for several moments then, deciding it was a harmless question, said. "I'm Avalanche. That's Pyro, Joanna and Rusty," he nodded in turn to the red-head chained in one corner of the room, the lady powerhouse mummified in chains and duct tape and the gangly boy who could be glimpsed through the open bathroom door. 

After wrapping the boy in an inverted fireman's suit the Thieves had secured him in the shower stall. Jean-Luc felt a degree of pity for the drenched, miserable looking boy, and wished pointlessly that they'd picked another city to target for their rampage. 

"Joanna doesn't like code names and Rusty says Pyro already claimed the cool one," Avalanche elaborated. 

Jean-Luc nodded, "Serious business pickin' a new name, if it sounds silly yo' got no one to blame mais yourself." 

"I like my name," Joanna volunteered. 

"It is vera lovely chere," Jean-Luc replied. 

Joanna smiled at the compliment. 

"Why don' I leave yo' to t'ink t'ings over," Jean-Luc suggested. "Discuss it amon'st yourselves an' your intangible friend when she stops by. See if yo' can come up wit' anyt'ing helpful." 

Jean-Luc started to lave then paused, hand on the doorknob. He turned and walked back across the room to crouch beside Rusty. "Hate keepin' yo' soakin' wet like dis petite, mais I can' have yo' burning down de house. How 'bout yo' swear to behave yourself an I turn off de water?" 

Rusty nodded quickly. 

"Yo're givin' me your word on dis?" Jean-Luc asked. "Your solemn oath?" 

"I won't start any fires," Rusty said sincerely. "Cross my heart and hope to die." 

Jean-Luc shut off the water then removed the bindings on Rusty's hands and tossed him a towel. 

"I'll come back tomorrow an' see if yo' t'ought of anyt'ing," Jean-Luc said. 

Theoren met him in the hall outside, "Yo' tested de smoke alert, oui?" Jean-Luc asked quietly. 

"Of course an' de sprinkler system be set to deluge if it goes off," the other Thief replied. 

"Let's hope it don' come to dat," Jean-Luc sighed. "Trus' is de only we'll be able to set dem loose." 

"Dere's always m' plan," Theoren said with exaggerated blandness. 

"It be times like dis dat 'm certain havin' yo' mentor Lapin only 'ncouraged him," Jean-Luc said shaking his head and grinning. "We ain't druggin' dem, or shippin' dem off to de Congo an' even if we did dat it still wouldn' take care of de two femme still runnin' loose." 

A small smile curled Theoren lips despite his efforts to remain totally deadpan. "It was jus' a suggestion," he said. 

****** ****** ****** 

Belle ran through her fellow traveler's profiles one last time before finishing preparations for her first assignment. The small tour group would be providing her with cover to get her in and out of the town where the deed would be done, but they didn't know that and it was important that she didn't arouse any suspicions in them. 

The travel arrangements had been made for her, her Guild had people for that. "De ones dat couldn' hack it as a real Assassin," Belle thought all the while knowing better. The Guild wouldn't function without it's hackers, forgers, chemists, procurers and front men, they all played a vital roll in seeing that she could do her job, walk away clean and make a profit from it. Still she like to think that her roll was the most important, the one every other member of the Guild envied her for having. It certainly carried the most risk. 

The group she'd be traveling which consisted of four retired couples traveling during the off-season to avoid the crowds and save money, the Chelsey family from Minnesota, an architect and interior decorator with a seven-year-old and a four-year-old celebrating their tenth anniversary, Carol and Ray Moreland celebrating or distracting themselves from their youngest child's exit from the nest, Jane Donis and Mindy White, thirty-ish, best friends, on a trip for two Jane had won in a radio contest, and Roe Sandry, recent high school grad planning on studying anthropology and wanting to see some of South America's pyramids with her own eyes, just for fun, before settling down to really study them. 

The first time she read the dossier Belle had decided that Roe was the greatest danger to her cover. The rest had someone to provide distraction, to be the primary focus of their attention. The elderly couples might be nosey or the children might be a pain, but they were traveling with companions and their party would be their first concern, Roe was all alone. Belle didn't want to end up dealing with someone looking for a potential best friend. 

"Suppose I bes' be de anti-social type an' scare her off," Belle sighed upon rereading Roe's file. "Damn, would've been fun to drag Remy 'long, have dis be a workin' honeymoon, we could've been all caught up in one 'nother an' no one would've t'ought anyt'ing of it, mais I t'ink it bes' he don' get too close to m' work." 

Deciding she hadn't over looked anything in her earlier planning sessions Belle started packing for the trip. First the gear she would need to complete the assassination, primarily a high-powered rifle. It was state of the art and expensive and she'd dump it as soon as the job was done. The Guild could afford new weapons, they couldn't afford having their assignments linked by ballistics. Then the clothes for her traveling persona, Rebecca, Becca for short, Johnson. 

Becca was a boring little mouse of a girl Belle decided as she dressed for the part. Her loose blonde hair was parted in such a way so that it would fall forward, demurely hiding her face whenever she glanced down, and Becca spent a lot of the time staring at the ground avoiding people's eyes. No make-up beyond a little lip-gloss and modest clothing that hid all but a hint of her figure. Becca was pretty enough, but such a shy little thing that strangers would feel uncomfortable imposing on her personal space by even talking to her. Belle wrinkled her nose in distaste thinking if she really were Becca Johnson she'd have died of boredom long before now. Once she was ready Belle headed for the garage. 

Marius met her there, he put the suitcase in the trunk of the car and drove her down to the bus station to see her off himself. As the driver stowed her trunk beneath the bus Marius gathered Belle into a tight hug. "Yo' make your ole' man proud," he whispered into her ear. "Take care of yourself an' come home 'fore dat husband of yours gets hisself into too much trouble." 

"Daddy!" Belle exclaimed with exasperation. 

"Je t'aime, mon fillis," Marius said. "I suppose yo' bes' get on your way or dey leave wid out yo'." 

Belle's arms tightened fiercely. "Don' worry 'bout rien, dis is as good as done," she said, unsure which of them was supposed to be reassured then boarded the bus. 

****** ****** ****** 

"S' do yo' have any ideas?" Jean-Luc asked, glancing around at the group of restrained would-be terrorists. Their blonde friend had joined them during the night. "If yo'd like your other friend could join us," Jean-Luc suggested. 

"No," Avalanche said firmly. "You're not bad for a flatscan, but you could possibly catch Skids. It's not easy, but I'm sitting here not using my powers because you set it up so I can't risk it. Scanner always comes and goes as she pleases, no one can stop her, but I'm not risking Skids... We thought about solving everyone's problem by just disappearing. You did too good of a job hiding the keys to our handcuffs." 

"I los' de keys years 'go," Jean-Luc said with a laugh. "Why bother keepin' track of t'ings like dat when I can pick de locks faster anyway?" 

"Neat," Pyro exclaimed then glanced away in embarassment 

"If yo're willin' to jus' move on, yo' could try askin'," Jean-Luc said. "Your friend Rusty kept his word 'bout not burnin' de house down, mebbe I'd trus' yo'. Or yo' could stay. Magneto is wrong. Dere ain't no need for a war 'tween humans an' mutants, 'less he makes it a need. An' mebbe your powers give yo' an edge, mais yo'd be surprised what a body can do when dey're fightin' for deir life." 

"No thanks, we'll just leave," Avalanche said. "We know how to take care of ourselves." 

"D'Accord," Jean-Luc sighed. "I'll turn yo' loose, Scanner can round up your Skids an' meet de rest of yo' at de bus station, or dey could come here an' m' son could give yo' all a ride." 

"Or you could just let us walk out the door," Avalanche countered. 

"An' have de firs' Assassin dat sees yo' start takin' pot shots, which 'm certain yo'd counter den we'd be right back where we started: Worryin' 'bout de government descendin' on us 'cause of your 'ndiscretions. De four of yo' dat 'm s'posed to have control of can't be seen in N'rleans 'gain." 

"Alright already," Avalanche said. "How close is Skids anyway Scanner?" 

"Close," the blonde girl replied. 

"Go get her," the earth shaker decided as Jean-Luc set about releasing their bonds. 

"Mattie put together a little food an' some t'ings for yo' in de kitchen," Jean-Luc said. "We t'ought dis be what yo'd choose." 

"Thanks," Rusty said awkwardly as he stripped off the flame retardant suit he'd been wrapped in. "I'm sorry about all the trouble." 

Jean-Luc gave the boy a tired look. "Yo' knocked down three buildings an' burned four others, dey still haven' tracked down half de water and power lines yo' put out of commission an' half de Quarter has at leas' minor structural damage. Sorry doesn' really cut it chile. Mais I ain't willin' to see yo' dead eider s' dis be m' compromise. Nex' time yo' might not be s' lucky. Nex' time dere might not be any stoppin' 'till yo' or de ot'ers be dead, 'member dat 'fore yo' start dis sort of mess 'gain." 

As the five teens trailed out Henri met his father in the hall. "Saw Remy an' Lapin plannin' somet'ing," he said quietly. "Dis ain't 'xactly de time for it s' I t'ought yo' should know." 

"Merci," Jean-Luc replied. "Hell, I t'ought de quiet repentant stage would las' a bit longer after his las' stunt." 

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	2. 2 of 14

**Tested**

Disclaimer: Characters and Premise are borrowed from the Marvel, I'm not making any money.

Part 2 

Jean-Luc stood back quietly watching Remy check his thief's kit. "Yo' really t'ink dis be a bon time for mischief?" he asked. 

Remy glanced up, surprised. "Oncle Luc, Lapin an' I ain't up to any trouble, trut'." 

"If dat be so why would I t'ink Lapin be 'volved?" Jean-Luc asked. 

" 'Cause if I were, he would be," Remy replied frankly. "Mais I ain't, I can't act like a kid anymore." 

"Remy," Jean-Luc said sounding unhappy. "Yo' barely started relaxin' 'nough to act yo' age in de firs' place." 

Remy shrugged and turned his attention back to inspecting his lock picks. 

Jean-Luc switched tactis. "S' yo're not plannin' trouble. What 'xactly are yo' plannin'?" 

"Yo'll see," Remy said. 

Jean-Luc sat down beside Remy. "Is dere somet'ing wrong Remy?" he asked. "Yo've hardly spoken to me since we got back." 

For a long time Remy sat fussing with his tools, not even looking at his Oncle. Then, very quietly, he said, "Yo'd be easy to count on, I don' want to need anyone." 

"What happened to yo' Remy?" Jean-Luc asked. 

"Rien happened," Remy said. "Not to me, not really. 'M here ain't I? Jus' got a little 'minder; hearts lie. Yo' want to look out for me 'cause yo' care 'bout me, mais what happens when yo' find someone else yo' like bettah?" 

"Remy yo're m' family, yo a'ways will be," Jean-Luc said. " 'M nevah gonna choose 'tween yo' or Josette or Henri, no mattah how much yo' an' Josey might want me too. Yo're all m' family. If it's in m' power I'll nevah let any of yo' come to grief." 

Remy met his oncle's eyes and Jean-Luc was disheartened to see simple disbelief in the teen's eyes. Remy didn't try to argue, Jean- Luc wished he had, but he just turned back to what he'd been doing without a single word. 

After a few moments Jean-Luc pushed himself to his feet and with a sigh and left. 

****** ****** ****** 

Six long days of driving and sight seeing later the bus carrying the little tour group was deep in Central America. 

Belle sat toward the rear, curled in her seat staring out the window intently, discouraging anyone from talking to her. It didn't help much. She'd been suffering from morning sickness since the trip started and she was the main topic of gossip among the other passengers whether she talked to them or not. And it was all her fault. 

The first morning she'd come down to breakfast pale and sickly, still feeling nauseated. She'd picked at the buffet without enthusiasm, noticing her distress one of the kindly little old ladies had asked if she were feeling all right. Out of sorts and wanting someone to whine to, Belle had told the woman exactly how she felt, in detail. As the day wore on the nausea faded, the next morning the pattern repeated and it didn't take long for the women in the group to start exchanging knowing looks when she declined breakfast or sat there pushing the unappetizing slop around on her plate. 

When they stopped for lunch Mr. Moreland solicitously offered her a hand off the bus while his wife looked on pityingly. Belle had heard them whispering the night before over dinner. They thought she was a runaway, ashamed to face her parents in her condition. Because it seemed like the Becca thing to do Belle accepted his assistance without comment, never quite making eye contact with either of them. She wished she could tell them where to shove their sanctimonious pity. Yes, she was sixteen and pregnant and no it wasn't planned, but she wasn't going to let that disrupt her life. 

Several of the older members of tour group glared disapprovingly at her and Belle heard the word "harlot" whispered among them. Becca ducked her head and pretended not to hear, Belle considered putting a dagger through the speaker's foot. 

When they went to take their seats in the quaint, touristy, little cantina Roe hurried to claim the seat between Jane Donis and the Lenards. Her eyes strayed guiltily toward Belle then she looked away, uncomfortable. If Becca had of been far enough out of her shell to notice the rejection she might have been a little hurt. Belle sneered to herself, "Dat's right 'M trouble an' yo're too busy bein' de good girl to have a life." 

"Sit with us," Jim Chelsey offered pulling out a seat for her. 

"Don't worry, we'll protect you from any nonsense the boys get up to," his wife Clarice added, with a stern look at her notably rambunctious children. 

Becca stole a shy glance through a curtain of blonde hair and offered them a tentative smile as she murmured a quick, "Thank you." 

The boys chattered animatedly about the crab they'd found on the beach that morning. Their parents deftly balanced small talk with her and acknowledgement of the boys' excitement. 

Belle felt a fleeting wisp of regret that she and Remy would never be like that. But this baby was already causing enough havoc in her life. She pictured a golden-haired, demon-eyed toddler tugging at her shirtsleeve as she tried to carry out a sniper assignment. 

"Merci, but no," Belle thought to herself. Morning sickness was bad enough and she was already going to have to wait nearly forever until her second assignment between the later stages of the pregnancy and getting back into top physical form. 

"Mebbe later," she though. Once she and Remy had made names for themselves and took positions of authority within their Guilds. Assuming they both lived that long. Belle had never pictured getting old, living fast and dying pretty were more her style. 

****** ****** ****** 

Jean-Luc noticed the self-satisfied looks on the two boy's faces and knew he should be concerned but it was such an improvement from over the emotionless mask that was becoming normal for Remy that he honestly didn't care what they'd done. 

They were waiting in his office. Remy perched coolly on the corner of his desk, a dark colored backpack at his feet. Lapin caught in the act of peering impatiently out the door. 

That they were choosing to meet him there told Jean-Luc it was business, at least in their minds, that they wanted to discuss. If it had been trouble they wouldn't have chosen his lecture spot. 

"We should've asked firs'," Lapin began. "Mais Remy's way more dan ole 'nough an' it ain't like I nevah acted as Registrar 'fore." 

"Oui, mais Remy didn' grow up wit' us an' yo' knew yo' wouldn've gotten m' 'pproval if yo' had asked," Jean-Luc pointed out. 

"None of which stops me from havin' de necessary skills," Remy said dumping a pile of jewels on to the desk. " 'Pproval or non, I did de job." 

Technically Jean-Luc knew he shouldn't but he still asked. "Lapin?" 

"We headed up river, hit Demar's organization since I knew he likes convertin' cash to gems an' it's tradition to steal somet'ing sparkly for de Tillin'." 

"Your target's 'cceptable," Jean-Luc allowed. 

"It was a damned fortress," Remy interjected feeling that the difficulty of his feat was being underrated. 

Jean-Luc ignored him for the moment. "Your 'valuation Guild- Member Lapin?" He asked formally. 

"Remy did it," Lapin said. "I didn' help at all. Mais he shouln' use his powers so much, slaggin' de wirin' be too much of a signature. He passed de Tillin' mais needs to 'xpand his methods 'fore he tries de Tracts of Passage." 

Jean-Luc nodded accepting the report. "Dis be irregular," he said then added. "Mais your situation be unique Remy, yo're a member of de Guild now." 

"S' I can start takin' jobs?" Remy asked. 

"A few an' yo'll need a chaperon wit' yo'," Jean-Luc said. "De Tillin's like getting' your learners permit, not your driver's license." 

"Bien, 'M gonna buy a house as soon as I get de money," Remy declared. "I don' t'ink Belle likes it here an' I ain't sleepin' under de same roof as Julien." 

"Smart choice," Lapin said under his breath. 

Jean-Luc couldn't help but agree. "Marius an' I maintain some houses in town for visitors from out of town. Yo' an' Belle could pick one of dem," he suggested. 

"I don' want any help," Remy protested. 

"Yo' can't jus' walk in an' dump a suitcase full of cash on someone's desk neither. An' yo' can't get a house loan wit'out people questionin' where de money for de down payment came from, not at your age. 'M gonna to have to co-sign an' dat will still raise s'picions. Remy not takin' help jus' be foolish." 

"I'll do it on m' own," Remy insisted. 

"Den rent a 'partment," Jean-Luc replied. "Dere are plenty by de college where no one would t'ink twice 'bout your age an' bot' yo' and Belle'll mos' likely be 'ttendin' classes dere in 'nother couple years anyway." 

" 'M gonna do dis marriage an' parent t'ing right," Remy stated stubbornly. 

"What does a house have to do wit' dat?" Jean-Luc asked. 

"Rachael an' Mark had a house," Remy insisted with growing fevor. "Wit' pictures like a real family. An' I'll be able to protect de bebe like dey couldn' protect deir Kevin. I won' let anyt'ing bad happen. An' Belle won' like bein' an Assassin, she ain't like Scalphunter or Wolverine, she won' turn on me!" Jean-Luc and Lapin stared at Remy with bewildered concern as the telltale nimbus of his powers flared around him. 

"Yo a'right?" Jean-Luc asked cautiously. 

" 'M fine!" Remy snapped then stormed out of the room. 

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	3. 3 of 14

**Tested**

Disclaimer: Characters and Premise are borrowed from the Marvel, I'm not making any money.

Part 3 

Backpack secured between her shoulder blades hanging heavily with the weight of the rifle it contained, Belle slipped quietly from the hotel, glad she was almost done with this. Nothing had changed in the charade of a tour and she was sick of quietly accepting all the slights poor little knocked up Becca endured. Four more days, three more sights then they'd get on a boat and sail back to Florida for the tour's grand finale. Belle planned on spending the whole voyage in her room being seasick. 

But first there was one little thing she had to do, the whole reason for this two week exercise in misery that was the cause of her and Remy's first real fight as a couple. Belle wanted to think that the fight was just because she'd left for this assignment barely twelve hours after they'd wed. Or maybe because Remy was planning on being annoyingly and sweetly over protective while she was pregnant. The timing had been rotten, Belle knew that, but if she'd let this chance pass her by it might have been months before the next suitable contract came along, then her pregnancy really might have been an issue and she'd have had to wait until the baby was born. Julien had been fourteen when he completed his first Assassination and became a full Guild member rather than just an apprentice. 

Two weeks of traveling undercover and the whole reason for all the bother would be done with in a matter of hours. A brisk walk across a strange town, fifteen minute to a half an hour spent sitting in an condemned apartment building, a matter of seconds in which the trigger was pulled and a man died, then another brisk walk with a small detour to get rid of the evidence and it would all be over, it seemed almost anticlimactic now that the day was here. 

After walking a little more than three blocks Belle knew she was being followed and thought the day might just turn out more exciting than she'd anticipated. Belle slipped between two men walking in front of her, while their bodies shielded her from view she quickly dodged into an alley and waited for the brisk, tapping footsteps she'd heard behind her since leaving the hotel. Upon hearing them Belle stepped out of the alley and found herself confronting Mindy White. 

"What do you want?" Belle demanded defensively. 

"Are you all right, Becca?" Mindy asked. 

"Why are you following me?" Belle pressed. 

"I wasn't following you," Mindy insisted. "But you seem... tense... if there's anything I could do to help?" 

"Mindin' your own business be a start," Belle snapped, a trace of her accent slipping into her speech, her fingers brushing over the hilt of the knife hidden in the small of her back. 

Mindy backed off. 

Belle altered her path to pass through a busy market just to make sure the other woman lost her trail then continued on to her target's appointment with destiny. 

****** ****** ****** 

"She ditched me," Mindy said slumping on her bed in the hotel room she shared with Jane Donis. She flicked off a device on her belt and 'Mindy's bland, unassuming appearance morphed into Vertigo's green and white locks and lithe, seductive figure. 

Her purple haired companion glanced up from her laptop. "Don't worry about it, we received an update from Candra's people; she's not getting an abortion, she's just here to kill someone." 

"Anyone worth killing?" Vertigo asked curiously. 

"They're all worth killing if you're getting paid for it," Archlight replied. "Ten thou for an easy hit. God freelance looks good right now, why do we put up with all of Sinister's stupid rules?" 

"The benefit package," Vertigo deadpanned. "The one where he doesn't cut us up for curiosity's sake as long as we stay useful." 

"I still say if he wants this kid so bad we should just snatch the chit and let her have it in his labs," Archlight replied. 

"Not to his face you don't," Vertigo said. 

"Can't he ever do anything straight forward?" Archlight continued ignoring Vertigo. 

"He doesn't want to disrupt them," Vertigo sighed. "He nearly had an orgasm when he started playing models of what might happen when you combine their DNA. Sinister doesn't want to do anything that might keep the street rat and the little assassin from having lots of babies." 

"So Gambit gets off scot free for blowing the lab, making us chase him all over the country and getting all of us killed at least once," Archlight complained. "I hate it when Sinister plays favorites." 

"I can live quite happily without being his favorite," Vertigo said. "Hell, I could be ecstatic about him forgetting I even exist. Do you think Scalphunter and Harpooner are happy where ever Xavier stuck them?" 

"Living some goody-two shoes, dull as dirt lives like he had Magneto doing?" Archlight said. "Yeah, probably." 

****** ****** ****** 

Remy watched intently as Henri demonstrated a new technique. A few moments later Henri reset the mock-up of the security system and let Remy try. 

The russet haired teen smoothly and perfectly duplicated Henri's actions. The second time through Remy integrated an older lesson into the new scenario and shaved two seconds off Henri's best time for deactivating the alarm. By the fifth repetition he was getting bored with the whole thing. 

Remy wondered if he were starting to show evidence of the promise Essex always claimed to see him. During the last week's stay in Europe with Henri spent getting ready for their big job, everything had just been coming to him so easily. Years of picking pockets had made his hands quick, deft and steady, skills that translated effortlessly into picking locks, over-riding security systems and cracking safes. 

His mind was clear and focused. He remembered everything and saw the connections between dis-separate lessons without prompting. He had never been more focused, not even with Essex when he'd studied as if his life depended on it because maybe it had and worse yet if he'd disappointed his teacher he'd been afraid Essex would throw him out. 

Of course there was an alternate motive for Remy's intent focus on his studies this time as well: As long as his mind was occupied it didn't stray into forbidden territory. The X-Men, Scott, Logan, those thoughts could easily send him spinning into fury and leave him choking with grief. Essex had always told him the centers of his power and emotions were closely linked. Almost every morning he woke up to blissful denial that was soon shattered by the cold hard light of day and just as often the violent, frightening lapses in his control over his growing powers would send him scrabbling for his crystal. He'd never meditated so regularly or with such determination before in his life. 

During the years he spent with Essex the meditation exercise he'd been taught had always been a last resort, something in him had always balked at the thought of cutting himself off from his emotions. He'd learned, first to channel the power his emotions raised into useful or at least harmless avenues. Later he'd learned to channel the emotions themselves until only frustration or helplessness could trigger random explosions and even with those the uncontrolled bursts of power generally carried away enough of the feelings to leave him clear headed and able to plan. 

Now he just wanted the hurting to stop. Before Scott he'd never even had a close friend to loose, now he wasn't sure he wanted to risk having another... Except he already had them, and a wife and a child. 

He should have killed Julien when the opportunity presented itself... only what if it made someone else feel the way he was feeling? 

With a snap Remy yanked his attention back to the task at hand. Boring or not, repetitive or not it was better than thinking. He buried his mind in the intricacies of pressure pads and alarmed glass, looking for anything that might have been missed that would make the exercise more absorbing, letting the sudden surge in his power drain back into his blood. 

****** ****** ****** 

Belle settled herself in a third story apartment across the square and somewhat above the balcony where the local big fish ate his breakfast every morning. In the larger scheme of things he was no one of consequence, corrupt politicians were almost as common as flies. This one had ambitions of moving up the ladder, of becoming a smaller fish in a somewhat bigger pond, he'd have learned quickly enough that he was better off where he was, but the other big fish in the neighboring ponds didn't appreciate his methods of moving up in the world, and so they'd hired her to get rid of him and make an example. 

He was a worthless bit of scum, no one that anyone would miss and in under a month he'd be replaced by some other bit of scum and the world would keep on turning. It didn't matter at all. 

Belle knew her best friend Delores would have been appalled. She took her studies as a healer and doctor seriously and would never take a life except to protect friends and family. Delores had grown up knowing what her family did, but she didn't let them talk about it in front of her anymore and somehow that made it possible for her to live with the situation. Belle wondered if Remy was going to have to learn to be similarly blind, because she worried that their fight had been less about the timing of her assignment than it had been about what she was going to do while she was gone. 

Belle shook back her hair with an irritated twitch of her head, none of that was important right now. This was her first solo job, not the time or place for these thoughts. 

She pulled a narrow case from her backpack, snapped open the lid and expertly assembled the high-powered rifle securely packed inside. 

At home the Guilds cloaked themselves in anachronisms and mysticism, on the job they were totally modern professionals. It was a misdirection of sorts, anyone who stumbled on the Guild would be unlikely to connect them the high tech, often high profile assassinations they actually were responsible for. 

"An' it's nice," Belle thought. "Havin' our own world to come home to." They existed in society as smoke and shadows, not a part of it, barely believed in. It would have been hard not having their own community where people didn't think what they did was wrong. Acknowledging they were set apart with their rituals and lifestyle was better. Maybe that was the problem with Remy. He hadn't grown up in the Guilds, had been hanging out with heroes no less, and look what sort of trouble that got him in. Of course the Thieves always had been odd about killing, worse than Delores in their own way. Thieves didn't kill on the job, period. In a fight they'd do what they felt they had to, when it was personal maybe, never because it would have been convient. Maybe she would have been better off with an Assassin, but she couldn't picture it, she'd been engaged in fierce competition with all the Assassin-boys practically since she could walk, most of them were at least a little scared of her. 

"Get your mind on what yo' be doing femme," Belle softly reprimanded herself, sighting through the scope and aiming at the balcony where her target was scheduled to appear. Their employers wanted this one public, Belle had heard her daddy complaining about political assassinations since she'd been old enough to pay attention, now she suddenly understood why. If it had been personal, if they'd just wanted the guy dead she'd have had the freedom to do something quiet, but no this was about politics and it had to be loud, public and messy. 

Belle couldn't help but worry things between her and Remy would change after this, after she was a fully ranked Guild Assassin, after she pulled the trigger instead of just coming along for the ride. He kept saying how he wanted everything to stay like it had been but she'd didn't think he was talking about them so much, because things weren't the same. Remy wasn't the same. 

"Not now," Belle told herself. Then there was movement behind the glass door and suddenly everything in Belladonna's mind crystallized. Her thoughts were as cold, clear, hard, and sharp as cut diamonds. There was nothing but her, the target and the distance between them. She'd spent a lifetime training for this moment. The target opened the door and stepped out on to the balcony, stretching in the warm sunlight before sitting at the table where his servants had set out his breakfast a few minutes earlier. 

Belle's gloved finger squeezed gently on the trigger, she watched through the scope as a splotch of red blossomed on the target's chest and he sank to the ground. Then she disassembled the rifle, packed it back in it's case, walked out the back door of the house and to the edge of the sewage canal that ran behind it then tossed the case into the stinking mire. She discard her gloves in an alley several blocks later and headed back to her hotel room to rejoin her tour group just in time to see the local Aztec Pyramid. 

Belle felt numb, disconnected from the world as she listened to a the tourists babbling about sore muscles, ancient wonders and what they were having for dinner that night. It didn't seem real, even when the conversation inevitably turned to the assassination earlier that day. They were all properly shocked and horrified and a little worried about repercussions naturally, but they didn't really feel that the death of a local power-monger with big plans for his neighbors had anything to do with them. 

Belle wondered if she should be afraid of getting caught, it seemed like borrowing trouble. Everything had gone off without a hitch after all. The man was dead, by her hand, everyone around her would have been horrified of what she'd done. Their disapproval of her pregnancy would have been totally forgotten if they'd known. Teen-pregnancies might be wrong in their eyes but they were a part of the world they lived in, people that coolly, emotionlessly killed others to make their living weren't. If they'd known they would have drawn back from her, stared at her like she was some kind of monster. There would have been none of their pity or condemnation or disapprove, they would have been afraid of her. 

Belle wanted to go home, she wanted to hear her father's praise for a job well done and be inducted as a Guild Assassin, to be surrounded by people who knew exactly what she'd done and who approved of it. She planned on avoiding Delores for maybe a week or two just in case there was any awkwardness. She planned on ambushing Remy somewhere dark, secluded but not really private and proving to him that absolutely nothing between them had changed not because of the marriage, or the baby, or the stuff with his X-Men, or because of this. 

The next morning Belle was more than ready to move on to the next city on the tour group's itinerary. Every day, every stop would be taking her one step closer to her daddy, her Guild, her lover and her friends. 

She was waiting in the lobby with Clarice, Jim and their two boisterous children when the soldiers came. Belle watched them, her expression innocently confused and a little fearful. "A sheltered, young femme from de States shouldn' be overly comfortable wid armed soldiers stormin' her hotel, even if she's done rien to interes' dem," Belle told herself. 

The couple from Minnesota gathered their boys close and shrank nervously against the back wall. The unit's field commander quickly scanned the lobby and started straight for Belle. 

The young Assassin was so shocked at the failure of her cover that she didn't even react until his handcuffs were already around one wrist, then she twisted in his grasp, a knife falling into her hand with a gesture so smooth it looked like magic. The sharpened steel slid through his Kevlar vest and into his heart with negligible resistance. Belle took the pistol from his dead hand, holding the body before her as a shield and opened fire on the other soldiers. In the background she was dimly aware that Clarice was shrieking, high shocked wails of simple incomprehension as her nice predictable world shattered into a bloody war zone. 

Remembering the bulletproof vests Belle aimed high, blowing the brains out of two soldiers caught unaware by the sudden turn of the tables before they could dive for cover. She dropped their commanding officer's body and sprinted for the stairs. Without fear of being anticipated she shot out the lock on the door to the roof. The high road had always been her friend in New Orleans. And ran directly into the arms of another squad of soldiers. 

Belle fought using every weapon and dirty trick she knew, but in the end her small, sixteen-year-old body was simply not capable of taking out half a dozen grown men, well trained in violence themselves, in close quarters combat. 

Bruised and battered Belle growled threats of bloody retribution as she was forced to the ground, as her arms were twisted behind her and the handcuffs locked in place. One of the men, bleeding heavily from a smashed nose, kicked Belle viciously in the side with his heavy steel-toed boot. She screamed as the pain of something breaking coursed through her body and passed out. 

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	4. 4 of 14

**Tested**

Disclaimer: Characters and Premise are borrowed from the Marvel, I'm not making any money.

Part 4 

"S' tonight's de night," Remy said toweling his hair dry as he watched Henri divide up their orders from room service. 

"Yo' nervous?" Henri asked turning down the volume on the TV. 

"Moi?" Remy asked grabbing a chair as he arched his eyebrows and generally did his best to look shocked at the suggestion. "After all de times yo' made me practice?" 

"...No, I'm afraid Wolverine is no longer..." At the sound of the familiar voice from the television Remy jumped halfway back to his feet. Without a thought the butter knife he'd picked up was charged and flying across the room. 

Henri stared in shock as the knife embedded itself in the TV screen, burying itself to the hilt where Xavier's image had been a moment earlier then exploded showering the room with bits of glass, plastic and metal. Disbelievingly he looked to Remy for an explanation. 

The mutant teenager had snatched up his trench coat and his hand was already on the doorknob when Henri's gaze captured him. "I don' want to talk 'bout it," Remy exclaimed slamming the door after him as he left. 

****** ****** ****** 

In her Jane Donis persona Archlight returned to the hotel from an early morning jog to find the lobby in shambles. There were three distinct bloodstains on the floor and a number of bullet holes in one wall. Their tour guide and bus driver was hovering around the Chelseys. Clarice had both her boys in her arms and was rocking them comfortingly, her eyes where distant though, stunned. Jim stood protectively over his family, looking shaken. 

Archlight grabbed the bus drive and pulled him away, "What the fuck happened?" she demanded. 

"She was just a kid," the man said. "She killed four soldiers, one with her bare hands, they said she was the assassin, she looked so harmless." 

Archlight shook the man roughly, "What happened to her?" she demanded. 

"They took her away," the man said. "She didn't look dangerous." 

Archlight rolled her eyes and stormed up stairs. 

****** ****** ****** 

Remy prowled the foreign streets restlessly. Henri had been teaching him the language but at the moment the sounds falling against his ears were pure gibberish. 

He was focused, collected... Remy almost laughed at his own arrogance. He was in perfect control... except for those moments when he lost it completely. 

It had taken nothing more than the sound of Xavier's voice to send both his emotions and powers reeling. Essex's methods didn't work, but he didn't have anything better. 

It hurt and he hated it and ignoring the hurt didn't really make it go away. It lurked in the recesses of his mind and waited to ambush him the moment his guard slipped and the only thing more unendurable was to live with the pain all the time. Why wouldn't it go away? 

****** ****** ****** 

Belle woke to the taste of her own blood in her mouth, the feel of gritty, slimy concrete under her cheek and the stink of rat droppings in her nose. Raising her head to look around the dingy cell took more effort than it should have and the sharp pain in her chest spoke of one or more broken ribs. A duller ache in her abdomen scared her more than it should have considering she didn't really want the baby anyway, but she couldn't deny the dread that touched her as she considered the effect of internal injuries on the fetus she carried. 

She knew she risked a punctured lung with every movement but getting off the filthy floor of the cell where she'd been unceremoniously dumped mattered more than anything else at that particular moment. In her current battered condition the best Belle could manage was a slow crawl, but manage she did and after a few minutes she pulled herself onto the narrow, marginally cleaner pallet along the back wall of the cell. 

"It weren' supposed to be like dis," was all she could think. It was supposed to be exciting and thrilling. She wasn't supposed to get caught. How could anyone catch her? 

"How had it gone so wrong?" she wondered. "How had they known it was her?" She knew she'd done everything just like she was supposed to. She knew a random sweep of suspicious characters would be unlikely to pick up her. She knew that wasn't what had happened, they'd come for her, specifically for her. They'd been told there was no other explanation for what happened. Which meant she'd been betrayed. 

****** ****** ****** 

Vertigo pulled Archlight into an alley. "She's being held in the jail on the west side of town, they beat her up pretty bad, the boss is not going to be happy." 

"It's his own fucking fault for not letting us capture her for him," Archlight snapped. 

"And I would love to see you tell HIM that," Vertigo shot back. "He's going to blame us if she dies." 

"I wasn't the one sleeping up stairs while she was getting the stuffing knocked out of her," Archlight pointed out. 

"No you were the one out jogging," Vertigo said. "We're both on his back black list if this goes sour." 

"I don't see what's the big deal," Archlight replied, "It's some pathetic south of the boarder, century behind the times jail cell, we waltz in, grab the girl and waltz out. Sinister can figure out what to do with her after he patches the holes." 

"And what about the two weeks until his terrescats are back on line?" Vertigo demanded. "It'd take less time to drive her back to the Seattle base." 

"Oh right, I forgot about that," Archlight admitted. "What's the deal with them anyway? I tune out when he starts talking technobabble." 

"Like I understand him," Vertigo said. "I just figure out how it's going to make my life hell. Why it does matter why? For all I know the alignment of the planets is wrong, it doesn't work it's that simple. Look I've got an idea." 

****** ****** ****** 

Mindy White stormed the office like the hounds of hell were barking at her heals. She pushed past the receptionist without bothering with an explanation and threw open the doors to the inner office. "Belladonna Boudreaux, she and her baby are dying in your jail cell, you can't afford to let that happen!" she exclaimed as security rushed to drag her away. 

The man within the office glanced up at this interruption with a mild look of curiosity, "Why should I care about the death of our pretty little assassin?" he asked. 

The guards paused in their preparation to throw the woman out and she sighed in relief. "Because you're funding research into bio-engineering your own army of mutant warriors." 

"You sound very sure of that," the man said. 

"My employer is aware of every project dealing with the creation and manipulation of mutant DNA on the planet," Mindy said. "Boudreaux's child has enormous potential, you have no idea of what you're letting slip through your fingers if she dies without delivering that baby." 

"And you tell me this out of the generosity of your spirit and a heartfelt desire to forward my team's efforts?" the man asked with a snort. 

"Hell no," she replied. "I've been watching Boudreaux since her pregnancy was discovered. My employer fully intended to claim the child for himself when the time was right, but I don't want the girl and baby dying on my watch. I might survive loosing the kid to your people, but killing me would be the least that he'd do if this baby isn't born." 

****** ****** ****** 

"Yo' sure yo're up to dis?" Henri asked giving his cousin an uncertain look. 

Remy never looked away from the building where their target was secured. "Oui," he said shortly. 

"It don' have to be tonight," Henri continued. " 'M not tryin' to tell yo' what to do, mais I've seen de jails in dis place an' I know I don' want to see dem from de inside." 

"Please Henri, I jus' need to keep busy. I t'ink 'bout it or talk 'bout it I t'ink I'll go crazy. Jus' let me focus, everyt'ing be fine," Remy said letting the faintest traces of his empathetic abilities creep into his tone. 

"If yo're shor," Henri said handing Remy a hard drive they'd infected with a particularly distructive virus the day before. 

They'd already broken into the offices once to learn what sort of computer the information was stored on, tonight they'd pull the switch and with any luck the owner of the computer in question would never even know he'd been robbed. 

"S' what are we hopin' to find?" Remy whispered finding that the repetitive nature of the break-in kept it from being as much of a distraction as he might have liked. 

"Client lists," Henri said shortly. Seeing Remy's pleading expression he elaborated. "Dere are people who t'ink dese hommes be in de weapons trade, de nasty, 'xtremely illegal end of it too. Certain parties, mos'ly government be willin' to pay good money to know who dey be sellin' to, 'specially if no one finds out dey been made 'till after de bust." 

"Don' dey have deir own people to do dis?" Remy asked. 

" 'Course dey do, mais not as good as us, no one's as good as de Guild, an' since dey broke off from de ole Soviet Union dis bunch even be willin' to admit it," Henri explained in a low voice as they entered the office and set to dismantling in the computer. "Dey need dis info fas', 'fore some of deir neighbors take it into deir head to deal wit' dis little problem demselves. Looks bad for a sovereign state to not be able to tend to it's own dirty laundry." 

Remy switched the hard drives. "An' if dey're dis hard up, yo' shor dey can pay?" 

"Oui, Thereon checked deir 'ccounts 'fore we took de job." Henri said watching the hall. "Quiet now." 

Remy slid under the desk as Henri moved to stand behind the door. A guard shown a flash-light around the room in a perfunctionary manner, trusting the dog at his side to warn him if anything were wrong, then continued complacently on his rounds. 

"Plannin' is everyt'ing," Henri said a minute later sounding smug. 

"Tante Mattie's potion really worked," Remy said, sound a touch disbelieving. "De dog still don' smell a t'ing." 

"I tol' yo' so," Henri replied. "Come on, after dis job all we got is a few contacts I should introduce yo' to while we're in Europe, den we'll head home." 

****** ****** ****** 

Belle stared at the low ceiling of her cell. Her lips were cracked and bleeding. Her skin was flushed with fever. Her broken ribs sent spikes of pain through her with every shallow breath she drew. Her limbs felt weak. Her bruises ached. Her cuts burned with infection and she worried about the deep pains that could indicate more serious injuries. 

She knew she should be looking for a means to escape but it took all her strength just to drag her battered body to the door to retrieve the brackish, luke-warm water her jailor brought, the food she couldn't even bring herself to look at. 

She wondered if Remy would mourn her when he realized she was dead. Belle didn't think it was likely. Chances were he'd push her memory down in the depths of his mind to keep his dead X-Man friend company. 

The door creaked open and Belle tried to summon some worry over the thought that her captures must have gotten tired of waiting for her to die on her own and had come to execute her. 

"Get some light in here," a man's voice demanded brusquestly. "I need to examine her before we try to move her." 

Belle cringed away from the sudden brightness as a floodlight was brought in to illuminate her cell. 

She snarled and swatted ineffectually at the doctor's hands as he unbuttoned her shirt. "Leave me 'lone!" she growled. 

"Hold her still," the doctor ordered. One of the guards grabbed Belle's hands and stretched them above her head while a second held her legs to keep her from kicking. 

Clinically the doctor probed the various bruises, gashes and swellings that dotted Belle's torso ignoring her indignant curses. "Broken ribs, concussion, internal bleeding, her wounds are infected and she's picked up some sort of virus in this pit," he reported turning toward a figure in the door. "Your men did quite a job on her. She'll survive, but I need to get her to the lab to ascertain the fetus' condition." 

A stretcher was brought in the guards transferred Belle to it, as they moved to secure her, Belle managed to bury her teeth in one of the men's hands and ripped a chunk of flesh out when he jerked away from her. 

"Don't!" the doctor yelled as the man pulled back a fist. The guard ignored him and punched Belle. She was unconscious when they hauled her to the helicopter, a new welt forming on her cheek, blood that wasn't hers running down her chin and a smile on her face. 

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	5. 5 of 14

**Tested**

Disclaimer: Characters and Premise are borrowed from the Marvel, I'm not making any money.

Part 5 

Marius and Singer stood on the docks watching the passengers disembark, married couples old and not so old, a couple of kids, a soon to be college girl, but no Belle. They overheard the horrified and fascinated gossip that was passed back and forth among the tourists. 

The news about a slight blonde girl who'd traveled with them and had been taken away for killing a man was all they could speak of even days later. 

Singer looked to Marius hopefully, "She'll be a'right won' she?" 

Marius wouldn't meet the dark haired girl's eyes. "Belle may be m' daughter, mais Guild law still 'pplies to her," he said. 

****** ****** ****** 

Awareness came slowly and Belle found herself fighting a cloud of drugs for every impression of her surrounding that she managed to grasp. The muted murmur of voices that her befuddled brain wouldn't resolve into words frustrated her. The sterile, medicinal smell of the place spoke of hospitals as did the white wall, white ceiling, stainless steel trim and the beep of monitors. 

The soft, steady double beep was the first thing her befuddled mind interpreted: her heartbeat and her baby's. Belle felt a thrill of relief that she hadn't lost it. She wouldn't raise it but Tante Mattie would find someone in the Guilds to do it. She and Remy could visit; play with it when they weren't busy. Once the child grew up some she could act as his or her mentor in the Guild. She'd be old enough for an apprentice by then and it would be fun. Her petite learning from her, looking up to her. 

They wouldn't keep her out of the Guild for getting caught. It wasn't her fault. Belle was certain she'd been betrayed somehow; how else could things have gone so disastrously wrong? 

Belle pictured a little girl with curly golden hair, like a doll and Remy's angular features refined to elven-like delicacy. Maybe her eyes would be blue on black. Belle imagined her own vivid blue eyes surrounded by black like Remy's and decided the effect would be striking to say the least. 

Gradually Belle's musings drifted off into sleep. 

****** ****** ****** 

Delores, Singer, Lapin and Pierre were waiting at the small airport the Thieves used as a quiet exit to from the country when Remy and Henri climbed out of the plane. 

"Belle's ride home came back wit'out her several weeks back," Delores said. 

"Who's gone after her?" Remy asked. 

"No one," Singer said. "We don', it's de rule. Dat way no one realizes dey be part of a Guild." 

"Hell wit' dat," Remy said succinctly. 

****** ****** ****** 

Belle's mind was clear this time when she woke, free of both fever and the drugs. She glared at the heavy restraints the bound her to the bed wishing she could do Remy's trick of dispersing them into molecules. Not having that option Belle turned to more traditional methods and started raising a racket. 

"Hey! Hey yo'! Somebody!" Belle yelled, then she pursed her lips and let out an ear splitting whistle. 

She watched with satisfaction when a few moments later a put out looking man in a white lab coat answered her summons. 

" 'M thirsty!" Belle announced demandingly. 

"Fine, hold on a minute," the man said. 

When the man returned he had a glass of water with a straw which he held to Belle's lips. 

Instead of drinking she turned her head away. " 'M no chile to be han' fed. Let m' arm loose," she demanded. 

"I can't do that," the man said. 

"How 'm I supposed to eat? What 'bout when I got to go to de bathroom?" Belle instantly shot back. 

"You've got a catheter in," the man sighed. 

Belle's face squelched up in distaste. "Data's gross," she declared. 

"Look are you going to drink or not?" the man demanded. 

"Non!" Belle declared. " 'M not going in any tube. I'll hold it till I burst firs'." 

"Whatever," the man sighed leaving the glass beside the bed as he left. 

Belle counted out five minutes, just long enough for him to get involved in something else, then let out another sharp, piercing whistle. When no one came running she repeated it. 

"What now?" the man asked. 

"Yo' shor I can't go to de bathroom?" Belle asked. 

"Yes I'm sure," the man said turning to leave. 

" 'M bored," Belle complained. "Can't yo' bring in a TV or something?" 

"No." 

"How 'bout a book?" 

"You couldn't turn the pages." 

"Yo' could loose one of m' arms." 

"No." 

"Yo' could turn de pages for me." 

"No, I've got things to do." 

"I could jus' whistle when I needed yo'." 

"NO!" 

"How 'bout a radio?" 

"Fine, I'll get you a radio." 

Belle grinned a little; the first concession was always the hardest one. 

The man quickly returned with a battered little boom box, which he set up beside her bed. As a reward Belle waited a half hour before whistling again. 

"I don' like dis program," She said when he came back. 

With a sigh the man adjusted the dial. 

"No borin' news," Belle instructed. "Music, good stuff, not ole people music an' a good DJ." 

"My daughter likes this station," The man said setting the dial. 

"Merci," Belle replied sweetly. "I t'ink I'll have dat drink now. M' doctor at home said it was good for de baby if I got 'xercise. Yo' t'ink someone let me up jus' to walk 'round a bit?" 

Belle let her caretaker get away without answering that. 

After he left Belle waited fifteen minutes then squinted until her eyes began to water. With a tear making it's way down her cheek she whistled again. 

"Please, please, please can I go to the bathroom?" Belle whimpered. "I really have to go, please?" 

"I'm sorry I can't set you loose," the man said. 

Belle sulked for the rest of his shift calling him in repeatedly to adjust her bed or change the radio station or just to come up with pretenses for more tears. 

When he started his shift the next day he brought Belle a book with a stand to prop it up and promised her he'd stop by every ten minutes to turn the pages for her. 

After four hours Belle decided to get to an interesting part and started begging for him to come by more often. Two hours later he released one of her arms. 

Belle's hand shot out, fingers stiffened into a blade and struck his throat, crushing his windpipe. As the man collapsed, unable to even scream Belle grabbed him, pulling his dying body on the bed with her. She held him tightly until he stopped thrashing then she snatched up his keys and efficiently searched his pockets in case there were others she might need to free herself. That done she lowered the body to the floor, being careful of making any noise that might be heard over the radio. 

When she was free of restraints and monitors she wrapped her drinking glass in the bed sheet to muffle the sound then she smashed it. Belle picked through the shards examining their edges then selected one that would make a passable knife. A scrap of cloth ripped from the sheet became a hilt. A power cord torn from one of the monitors became a strangle cord. 

Armed to the best of her ability Belle stepped over the corpse of the man she'd killed and slipped out of the room. Belle exited her room to find herself in what seemed to be an empty intensive care ward. 

A pile of papers and books at the central desk marked where her caretaker had been working while he wasn't catering to her whims, other than that the room looked sterile and disserted. Unfortunately it was also window-less. 

Belle pressed her ear to the door and heard the faint hum of conversation. Only two guards she estimated. From the reflection in the polished floor that she could see through the crack beneath the door Belle estimated their positions. 

Seeing a pair of shoes pause directly in front of the double doors Belle grinned. She backed away from the door. Then she got a running start, leapt and crashed, feet first into the crack between the two doors just above the lock. The latch gave and the doors burst outward taking down one of the guards. Belle regained her feet with a crack flip and found herself facing two remaining soldiers, one of her guards had been the quiet type. 

Belle fainted forward the taller of the pair moved to block her. She threw her weight to the side and slashed across his face with her makeshift knife. As the man screamed and clutched at his eyes, Belle turned on his companion. He backed away scrabbling for the tasar gun holstered at his waist. Belle threw herself at him. They hit the floor together a moment later Belle rolled away from the man, leaving her knife embedded in his throat. 

She used his tasar on the other two before they could recover then casually broke their necks and continued onward. 

She encountered another white-coated doctor-type in the stairwell. A quick kick sent him tumbling down the stairs where he lay groaning until Belle brought her heel down on his nose forcing shards of bone back into his brain. 

Six guards with tasars and police batons met her in the lobby. Belle managed to stun two of them with her stolen tasar before they took her down.

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	6. 6 of 14

**Tested**

**Isolda**: Thanks and I agree about Remy being a good father. I do have future plans for the rugrat, but that's distant future. I'm hoping people will still be reading the series at that point :) 

**girlonthem00n** Thanks! 

**Shinigami-chan** That would be telling :), but most every question has an answer by the end of this story. 

Disclaimer: Characters and Premise are borrowed from the Marvel, I'm not making any money.

Part 6 

The five teens slipped out of the cargo hold of the plane and quickly mixed into the south of the boarder airport's scarce population. 

"Ah, parcel class, de only way to fly," Singer muttered sarcastically flipping her long dark hair over her shoulder. 

"Fedex style be de fastest way to get from dere to here," Lapin said defensively. "Also de cheapest an' since out pa'ents wouldn' 'pprove of dis an' since your guild makes a policy of 'bandonin' your people dere ain't no one to spring for dis petite field trip." 

"Yo're a T'ief money shouldn' be an issue," Singer complained, her tone indicating it wouldn't have been a consideration if Lapin were a better thief. 

"Not N'awleans," Lapin replied rolling his eyes at her ignorance. "Dey'd have know we be up to somet'ing 'fore we hit de airport. An' Belle's daddy said he can't openly back us, de coward.." 

"We be here for a reason," Remy stated. "No fightin'." 

Singer stopped her mouth open ready to defend her Guild; a quick look at the dangerous sparkle in Remy's demon eyes changed her mind. 

"Gettin' Belle back safe is all dat mattahs," Delores said quietly. 

"Remind me why we came 'gain?" Pierre whispered to Lapin. 

" 'Cause Belle's our ami," Lapin whispered back. 

"Not really," Pierre replied. "We spent mos' of our lives more dan half afeared of dat crazy femme." 

"Oui, mais t'ings change," Lapin shrugged. "She be Remy's wife an' de bes' friend of our girlfriends." 

"Oh, right," Pierre sighed. "Why we be datin' assassins 'gain?" 

" 'Lores ain't an Assassin," Lapin hissed. "As for yo' an' Singer, do yo' know any femme prettier dan her dat would give yo' de time of day?" 

"She do a whole lot more dan dat," Pierre smirked. "A'right, a'right I know why we doin' dis. 'Sides 'm a little worried 'bout Remy. Yo' t'ink he been a bit tight strung lately?" 

"As a bow an' twice as likely to snap," Lapin confirmed. 

"Is dis de place?" Delores asked Remy. 

"Non, we got one more hop. Dey don' have a commercial airline flyin' dere," Remy said. 

"So how we doin' dis one?" Singer asked. 

"Dey have a little runway," Remy said. "For crop-dusters." 

"Non!" Pierre protested. "We ain't stealin' 'nother plane." 

"Dis one won' be military," Lapin said with a shrug. 

"Remy, yo' learn how to land since de las' time?" Pierre asked skeptically. 

"We be stealin' de pilot too," Remy said. 

Singer's hand brushed past a hidden knife hilt, a predatory smile crossed her lips. "Dis could be fun," she said. 

Remy frowned. "Non, not like dat. I got a bettah way. Homme once tol' me I could make a body look forward to a torturous deat', I t'ink I can get a pilot to take a few passengers on a petite unscheduled hop." 

****** ****** ****** 

Belle stood between two towering guards, her wrists handcuffed to theirs, several more guards standing by as they waited for the at the helicopter pad. 

She would have laughed at the respect she was inspiring, but all their caution was making it damned hard for her to escape. When the helicopter arrived Belle was loaded into it without incident. 

The glances she stole out of the window as they flew showed city giving way to towns giving way to isolated building and finally nothing, rocky, wooded hills, rutted tracks that passed for roads, not even many of those and her almost four months pregnant. Escape was only going to get harder from here on out. 

****** ***** ****** 

Less than an hour passed before the quintet found a suitable plane and pilot. 

Remy walked up to the unsuspecting man reaching out to him with the raw power of his empathy before he even opened his mouth. "M'sieur, yo' goin' to take to take us on a trip, neh?" he asked. 

Disbelief, annoyance and a touch of fear bubbled up in the man as he prepared to refuse. Ruthlessly Remy forced the emotions accompanying the man's natural reaction to the side. He scanned the man's mind for the smallest glow of accommodation, drug that emotion from it's deep recess and fanned it into a blazing bonfire that consumed the man's soul. 

"It'll take me a few minutes to lay in a flight plan," the pilot said. "By the way where did you want to go?" 

A hard satisfied smile crossed Remy's face as he and his new servant set to planning the next leg of his journey. 

****** ****** ****** 

Jean-Luc fixed Marius with an angry glare as the other man joined him for their regular meeting to maintain the fledgling alliance between their Guilds. "Yo' tol' Remy de location of Belle's hit," he accused. 

"Your boy's a hard person to resist when he sets his mind on somet'ing," Marius said with a shrug. 

"Yo' didn' want to resist," Jean-Luc said. 

"Don' play self-righteous wit' me," Marius replied with a trace of irritation in his voice. "If it had of been your chile yo'd've done de same." 

"If it had of been one of m' family I would have gone after dem m'self," Jean-Luc said coldly. 

"Your people's laws 'llow dat," Marius said. "Count yourself lucky." 

"S' change de fuckin' law!" Jean-Luc growled. "Don' send a group of children to circumvent it for yo'!" 

"I didn' 'xpect him to take de others," Marius said. "T'ought he'd white knight it. I knew YOUR nephew wouldn' 'llow anyone to stop him from savin' his family. He would have learned what he needed wit' or wit'out m' help." 

"Yo' should have gone wit' Remy," Jean-Luc replied angrily. 

****** ****** ****** 

As Remy disembarked from the little plane the pilot ran after him. He clutched at Remy's arm desperately. "What else can I do for you?" he begged. 

Remy shook the man off, annoyed. "Rien, yo' done. Go home." 

"No please. I can't... I need..." the pilot stammered clinging to Remy yet again, eyes wild, nearly incoherent. 

Remy used his powers to reach into the man's mind again intending to return the pilot to the way he'd been before and found the fire he'd set in the man's emotions had fused shut the locks he'd placed on the less helpful spectrum of the pilot's feelings. They were gone, shut away beyond Remy's ability to retrieve them. Feeling sickened by what he'd done. Remy repeated more quietly, "Go home, M'sieur. Go back to your life." 

Shattered the man released Remy's arm and turned to walk back to his plane. 

As the five friends walked away they heard the plane engines sputter to a start behind them. A few minutes after they reached the road they saw the explosion as the pilot sent his plane into a nosedive that left it and him smeared across a near by hill side. 

Remy doubled over on the side of the road, vomiting until a blood vessel broke in his throat and he began choking up blood. In his mind he could feel the man's death, feel his utter despair at being denied the only wish Remy had left him. 

As Remy's thoughts spiraled down into unconsciousness he couldn't help but picture how disappointed and upset Scott would have been by his actions. 

Lapin caught Remy as his body went limp, keeping him from crashing face first into the grave lining the road. 

"Bring him over dere," Delores instructed pointing to a patch of sand shaded by a spindly dessert tree. 

Lapin carefully set his cousin's body down then stepped back to give his girlfriend room to practice her trade. Delores muttered to herself as she checked Remy's pulse, temperature, eyes and respiration. "He's in shock," she diagnosed turning to dig through her knapsack. "Gotta potion of Tante's dat'll help. While I mix it up yo' get his feet up higher dan his head an' keep him warm." 

Lapin nodded moving to do as she said while Singer and Pierre both offered their jackets. 

****** ****** ****** 

Belle groaned, electro-shock headaches were worse than hang-overs she'd decided and she was becoming much too familiar with them. 

Belle's nose wrinkled with distaste as she realized she was still covered in dried blood. More disappointing yet she was pretty sure the guard would survive. A compound fracture, even one where the bone tore through the skin and maybe an artery given the amount of blood, wouldn't kill a person fast enough when she was trapped in the med-lab from hell. 

Belle strolled over to the sink and started washing the blood away, "Nex' time would go bettah," she promised herself. 

****** ****** ****** 

When Remy hadn't woken up on his own after being treated for shock Delores had Lapin and Pierre carry him the rest of the way while Singer had gone ahead to find a safe place for them to take shelter. Once the rest of the group reached the abandoned building Singer had found for them there was little Lapin, Singer or Pierre could do to help Delores with Remy. 

The two Thieves settled in to wait for the results of Delores' examination while Singer paced restlessly about the room where they'd set up camp. Time passed, Pierre slipped out to acquire food for their dinner. 

Shortly after he returned Delores joined the others, her expression dejected. "I don' know why Remy don' wake up, I've done everyt'in' I know for shock... I don' even know why he went into shock in de firs' place!" she cried. 

" 'S okay," Lapin said squeezing her shoulders reassuringly. "I know yo'll figure out a way to fix him up." 

The sun set and the little group of friends settled in for the night. 

The next morning Singer listened as Delores told them Remy's condition was unchanged. Then the other girl turned her attention back to her patient while the two boys settled in for another day of waiting. 

After several minutes of pacing Singer came to a halt, hands on her hips glaring down at the two boys. "Why are we jus' sittin' here?" she demanded. "Belle's still out dere, dat's why we came." 

"Mais Remy's hurt, dat weren' part of de plan," Lapin pointed out. 

"How'd yo' managed to tie your own shoelaces 'fore Remy came?" Singer snapped. 

"In case yo' forgot, we were countin' on Remy's powers makin' people friendly to us," Lapin argued. "How are we s'pposed to do dat wit'out him, we ain't got dat sort of power." 

Singer smiled looking like a fine porcelain doll, pale flawless skin, dark raven hair and cold, cold blue eyes totally devoid of mercy. "Jus' leave dat to me boys," she said. "I got m' own ways of makin' people do what I want." 

Pierre and Lapin exchanged an uncertain glance but rose to follow her out of the room. 

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	7. 7 of 14

**Tested**

Disclaimer: Characters and Premise are borrowed from the Marvel, I'm not making any money.

Part 7 

Delores held her lighter to another bundle of herbs, adding to the thick cloud of incense in the ramshackle room. Then she returned to her spot beside the nest of blankets they'd set up for Remy's bed. 

"Dere's no reason for yo' to be like dis Remy," she said. "Dis is your plan, we need yo', Belle needs yo' and so does your baby. Yo' gotta wake up." 

Delores sighed wondering if she were doing the right thing by trying to treat Remy herself. He'd collapsed over a week ago and hadn't regained consciousness yet. That morning Lapin had located the last of the more esoteric herbs Delores needed to try one final option before she called Tante Mattie. Once she made the call the adults would come and stop them from rescuing Belle. "Mais what sort of doctor would I be if I stood by and watched Remy die?" Delores thought. 

One last chance, Tante Mattie had taught Delores this as a last ditch measure, a way to open a patient's soul to the healer so that the healer's determination could infuse the patient with the will to live. Delores wasn't sure it was appropriate in this case but she knew Remy's comatosed state wasn't caused by any physical malady she could treat. 

They were Belle's only chance of rescue and she wasn't willing to give up on her best friend until she'd done everything she could, even if it meant trying an unorthodox treatment. Delores told herself Remy would have given her permission if he'd been able, he wanted to rescue Belle as much as any of them, maybe more. 

****** ****** ****** 

Finding out which jail Belle had been held in wasn't that hard, a few days of eves-dropping on the local gossip had told the three teens that much. Once that was established Lapin and Pierre put their talents to work and broke into the jail only to discover Belle wasn't there anymore. 

The next day they returned to the jail with Singer boldly leading the way to the front door this time. Lapin and Pierre hung back just inside the door, making sure the Assassin wasn't interrupted while she took her shot at proving them wrong about needing Remy. 

The Raven-haired girl sashayed in and leaned seductively against the jailor's desk. "Yo' been holdin' ma ami prisoner, I'd do jus' anyt'in' to find out where she be. 'M jus' so worried," she purred 

When the man failed to fall all over himself to offer information Lapin volunteered, "Belle's de blonde femme who shot your leader a couple of weeks back. We t'ought we'd come pay her a visit, mais she ain't in your pit of a jail no more. We jus' want to know where she's gone, no big deal, oui?" 

Singer fixed him with an evil glare. "Don' help," she snapped then turned her attention back to the jailer and fluttered her eyelashes. "S'il vous plait, please tell me, I'd be evah so grateful." 

The man slowly ran his gaze over Singer's body then sat back and laughed. "Come back when you're old enough to know what you're promising. I'm not into children pretending to be all grown up." 

"Fuck dis femme fatale crap," Singer declared stepping back, a scowl on her face. 

Pierre and Lapin exchanged conspiratorial look that quickly turned knowing. "I t'ink dat was an insult. 'Member Gregory in de seventh grade?" Lapin asked as Singer launched herself feet first across the desk at the man. 

Both boys winced at the sound of ribs breaking upon impact. "An' dis time dere's no one to stop her," Pierre said. 

" 'Cept yo'," Lapin replied. "We do need him 'live." 

"Why me? Why not yo'?" Pierre demanded. 

"She's your girlfriend, she's less likely to hurt yo'," Lapin stated. 

With a long-suffering sigh Pierre grabbed Singer, pinning her arms to her sides as he hauled her away from her victim. 

Lapin sauntered over to crouch beside the injured man. "Yo' shouldn've made her mad," he said, shaking his head sadly. 

"I don' need you two playin' good cop, bad cop!" Singer hissed quietly at Pierre. "I had t'in's under control, I wasn' goin' to kill him 'till after he talked." 

"If dis works, it works," he whispered back. "Yo' should pro'bly struggle more." 

Singer rolled her eyes but obligingly started acting like she was trying to fight her way free of Pierre's hold. "Lemme get m' hands on him, I'll tear out his heart… an' eat it!" she yelled. 

Lapin leaned in close and started whispering in the man's ear. The jailor stared at Singer and blanched, she smiled at him with bloodthirsty eagerness. "The General took her for his pet researcher," the man blurted out. 

"See dat wasn' s'bad," Lapin encouraged. "Where'd dey take her." 

"I don't know," the man insisted. 

"Bien, dat means I can kill him now," Singer contributed sounding gleefully murderous. 

"The General's aid, he takes lunch at a cantina three blocks north, he'll know more," the jailor volunteered desperately. 

"Sounds good 'nough for me," Lapin said stepping away from the man. 

Pierre released Singer, "Let's go den," he said a moment before she darted back across the room. 

Putting the strength of her entire body behind a sharp kick to the man's jaw Singer snapped his neck, killing him instantly. "T'ink we should finish dealin' wit' dat firs'," she said calmly. 

"We were jus' bluffin'," Pierre said blinking uncomprehendingly at the newly made corpse. 

"What were yo' plannin' on doin' when he warned dat General 'bout us askin' questions?" Singer said. 

"We could've found a bettah way," Lapin protested. 

"Non, yo' could've found a less effective way. Yo' t'ieves are s' squeamish," Singer said. "I keep hopin' Pierre'll get over dat." 

Pierre swallowed a couple of times then said, " 'S not like we can undo it. Let's jus' get dis over wit'." 

****** ****** ****** 

Dr. Cornelius sat head in his hands watching the girl on the security monitor painstakingly scratch another tick in the wall of her cell. 

Any other prisoner would be marking off the days of her captivity, not Belladonna Boudreaux-Lebeau. She kept tallies of the people she'd killed, separate ones for the guards and the lab techs. This morning's mark used to be his new lab assistant. The man had been told all the stories. He hadn't believed them. Now he was another cautionary tale to be related to his replacement. 

Cornelius sighed, he wished her cell hadn't been painted, but from what he'd seen of her Belle would have probably used blood to tally her kills if there hadn't been any other way. 

When he'd heard about her he'd been euphoric. Anyone who worked in his field long enough eventually heard the stories, especially if they worked in the shadowy, morally impure lines of endeavor Weapon X had loved so much. Stories about the man who fathered applied mutant-genetics research and who was still pioneering the cutting edge of the field today. 

Cornelius didn't believe that last one, but he did believe the original Essex had possessed the foresight to select and train a successor to carry on his work, to bring experiments that spanned centuries to fruition. A man of vision who, unlike his modern counter-parts, didn't seek to create living weapons through potions or robotics or any quick scheme, he'd set out to change the world by breeding a new race and he'd succeeded, beyond his wildest dreams most likely. Now it was up to programs like the now defunct Weapon X to reclaim control of the living weapons Essex's work had brought forth. 

When the Donis woman had come bursting into his sponsor's office ranting about Boudreaux's unborn child and her employer Cornelius had been certain that the child was nothing less than the culmination of one of Essex's multi-generational experiments. The chance to study a bred mutant and contrast it with the wild mutants Weapon X had captured for him in the past had seemed like a diamond dropped into his lap. 

That had been before he'd made the acquaintance of the mother to be. Now he felt like the proud but fearful owner of a griffin. He lived every day knowing that his pet would eventually break her bonds and kill him, but he was so enthralled with owning her he couldn't dream of letting go. 

He couldn't find proof of an active X-gene in Belladonna's DNA but her genetic code was packed with latencies and from an analysis of her amniotic fluid it seemed she'd found the proper match to bring those latencies to the forefront in her child. 

What was more, he was becoming increasingly convinced that the girl had some powers of her own, active X-gene or not. 

He'd instituted a policy of rotating her guards after realizing that they were making a game of flirting with her, trying to convince her that they were impressive enough to merit a category of their own should she succeed in killing them. They called her their poison flower and if they spent enough time with her they would give her the opportunity to try her luck and skill against theirs. 

They all wanted to prove that they could handle the pretty little assassin. The more her legend grew the greater the attraction. She was quick as a snake and had demonstrated knowledge of five different ways of killing a man with her bare hands so far. 

Cornelius watched her going through forms in her cell, forcing herself to adapt to her changing center of balance. He had watched her laugh and flirt with men she'd kill in the blink of an eye if given the opportunity. He had watched her wash the blood of a murdered lab tech who'd never had a chance against her from her hands with no more emotion than he'd feel cleaning up after cooking a meal. Belle scared him almost as badly as Sabretooth or Wolverine did, like them she killed as naturally as she breathed, the only reassurance was he knew it was physically possible to kill her. He knew if he managed to shoot her she wouldn't just get up again, but that was a hollow reassurance because Cornelius also knew if he broke Essex's toy while the scientific legend still had plans for her he might as well just slit his throat and spare the other man the bother and himself a great deal of pain before he died. 

With another sigh Cornelius headed down to Belle's cell. He stood outside the bars and waited. Belle came to the front of the cell and leaned her forehead against the door her arms dangling through the gaps between the bars. She looked frail and helpless. Cornelius stepped back warily, remembering her well-honed reflexes. Belle raised her head a slow, predatory smile transforming her from helpless damsel in distress to frightening killer. "Can't fool yo'," she said. "Don' worry someone else'll let me out. I won' forget yo'." 

"You're almost five months pregnant Belladonna," He said. "What would you do if you did escape? We're too far from help for you to walk out in your condition." 

"Do yo' wanna make a wager on dat?" Belle asked. 

"You'll die, your baby will die in the effort," Cornelius stressed. "You have nothing to gain by this." 

"Jus' 'cause yo' be a pansy don' mean I can't do it," Belle laughed. 

"Look at yourself Belladonna, you're hardly in prime condition." 

Belle lovingly reached back to trace the scars she'd chipped in the painted walls of her cell. " 'M in good 'nough shape don' yo' t'ink?" she asked. "How many more playmates yo' gonna bring in for me?" 

"Eventually you'll pick a fight you can't win with someone who doesn't care that they have orders not to damage you. You keep pushing your luck and you will loose that baby." 

Unconsciously Belle's hand smoothed over her swollen belly, her eyes sparkled with rage. "M' Remy knew one like yo' once," she spat. "Bettah de both of us die fightin' dan I let yo' have her." 

Cornelius sighed, shook his head in defeat and resolved to remind his employees, yet again, that appearances were deceiving and Belladonna was dangerous, all the while wishing he were back with Weapon X, working with professionals like John Wraith instead of at the back end of nowhere trying to create a new program with a bunch of provincials who'd probably never been within a hundred yards of a real mutant. 

The soldiers with Weapon X wouldn't have let Belladonna pick them off like fish in a barrel. They would have had the resources for proper precautionary measures. And, Cornelius admitted to himself, they would have been sadistic enough to ensure that they would be the focal point of his subjects' hatred rather than him. 

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	8. 8 of 14

**Tested**

Disclaimer: Characters and Premise are borrowed from the Marvel, I'm not making any money. 

Skye Dragon: Thanks for the review. Rien means nothing, at least according to the last English to French online dictionary I found (I don't speak it either). 

Part 8 

"Look who's awake," Delores announced, her voice filled with pride at having an unorthodox cure work out. She helped Remy into the other room. 

Then she stopped dead. An older man was tied to a chair in the center of the room, Singer leaned over him, knife poised over his cheek. 

She turned and smiled at Remy. "Bien seein' yo' back wid us. Hope yo' don' mind mais I got an early start on t'ings. 'Llow me to introduce yo' to de aide-de-camp who over saw Belle's 'moval from de local jail." 

"I told you, I know nothing," the man protested. 

"He's lyin'," Remy said as Delores helped him to a chair. 

Without a second's hesitation Singer sliced off the man's ear. 

Remy's lips tightened. 

"Can't yo'… yo' know?" Lapin asked Remy staring at the bloody lump of flesh lying on the floor. 

"Non," Remy said shaking his head. "I can see 'motions wit'out strainin'. Mais I couldn' touch 'nother person's mind right now, not after what happened." 

"No worries, neh?" Singer said. "Yo' play lie detector, I'll take care of de rest." She leaned in close to her prisoners remaining ear and purred. "I figure yo' still need dis an' your tongue, mais yo' got ten fingers, ten toes and two eyes for me to play wit'." 

Pierre stared at his girlfriend with horror, listening to the sexy rasp of her voice sounding exactly like when she was turned on. He looked from her expression to the blood dripping down her prisoner's face. His hand flew to his mouth as he gagged then turned and hurried out of the room. 

"Dey don' need us," Delores said to Lapin. 

"Oui, we'll jus' wait in de other room," he said with a quick nod to Remy. 

"Now isn't dis more intimate?" Singer asked trailing her hand down the man's side as she knelt behind him pressing the blade of her knife to the first joint of his pinkie. "Where'd dey take, Belle? 'Member he'll know if yo' lie." 

Remy nodded. "I don' want to do dis, mais I gotta save her. Tell us 'bout Belle." 

****** ****** ****** 

Belle sat in the cell waiting. "Her plan would work," she told herself. She would go home. She'd see her baby born and see Remy again. She'd find the bastard that had set her up and kill him, painfully. 

It would work. She just had to wait for one last piece to fall into place. One more piece then she could go home. 

****** ****** ****** 

"Now dat wasn' so hard now was it?" Singer said cleaning the blade of her knife. 

"Some doctor took Belle, I don' like dis Singer," Remy said. "We gotta get to Belle quick." 

"S' do your petite trick, make dis guy go poof an' we'll be on our way to de mountains," Singers shrugged. 

"Charge him? I can't, he's 'live. I can't charge livin' tissue," Remy stammered. "It feels wrong." 

"If dat's all," Singer said. 

"Please let me go," the man begged. 

Singer snapped his neck. "He isn't 'live now," she said. "Yo' can take care of de body right?" 

"Oui, I can do it," Remy said pushing himself to his feet. Remy hesitated for a moment then put a hand on the dead man's shoulder, the man was so freshly dead his soul barely even knew it. He felt a lingering black film clinging to the body; Remy instinctively knew it was the emotional residue of the man's violent death. He bit his lip and sent his power into the man's corpse, ripping his cells apart, reducing the body to its elemental components. 

Remy shivered as the black film flew apart with the body, where the metaphysical shards came in contact with him they burned like dry ice, lingering on the surface of his mental shields like the residue of some evil bug squashed on a windshield. 

"Let's go," Remy said when it was finished. 

****** ****** ****** 

" 'M a hypocrite," Jean-Luc said quietly "If I tried I could find where de kids went, follow dem, like I tol' Marius he should've, mais I don'." 

Theoren sat down beside his old friend and Guild leader. "Yo' can't, after de attack here not to mention de near nuclear disaster in Miami t'ings are too uncertain here, de Guild needs yo'." 

"Magneto's captured, de government likes mutants, least de X-Men anyways, 'gain," Jean-Luc said. 

"Even s', de Registration Act is still on de books," Theoren pointed out. "Dey'd call if dey found too much trouble." 

"Pierre an' Delores, oui, Lapin mebbe, Singer I jus' don' know an' even if she did she wouldn' call us, she'd call de Assassins, for all de good dat would do. As for Remy, he won' call, no mattah what happened, not now… I nevah should've let him go back to New York." 

****** ****** ****** 

"We could hike de last leg of de trip," Remy suggested. 

"Den dey catch us on de way out," Singer argued. "Dat's 'ssumin' Belle is in any condition to walk when we find her an' dat none of us get hurt in de process. Hell boy, yo're hardly in top condition now. Face it Remy we need 'nother pilot, helicopter dis time." 

"Easy for yo' to say chere," Remy snapped. "Yo' ain't de one got to kill de man." 

"Oh spare me your hero's morality, Remy. It's simple, yo' want Belle an' de baby back yo're gonna get your hands bloody." Singer said. "Anyway, jus' 'cause de firs' guy suicided don' mean it'll happen 'gain." 

"If dere's 'nother way…" Delores began. 

"Dere ain't," Singer said. "Yo' know dat don' yo' Remy. De only question is do yo' love her 'nough or are yo' goin' to bail on her?" 

"Singer's right," Remy said. "Mais I gotta be more careful dis time, try not to wreck de pilot in de process. Stay put, gimme a couple days." 

"Remy yo' didn't really kill dat firs' pilot did yo'?" Lapin asked. 

"I changed him, twisted him till helpin' me was all dat he cared 'bout, all dat he lived for. Den I tol' him to go 'way an' he kilt hisself. Who's fault was dat do yo' t'ink?" Remy asked. 

"An' now yo're gonna do it 'gain?" Pierre demanded with disbelief. 

"Yeah, I am," Remy said. "What other choice d' I have?" 

****** ****** ****** 

The lights outside the cell never went out. They wanted to be able to see what she was doing at all times. 

Belle generally slept with a pillow or her arm thrown over her eyes to block out the glare from the bare bulb. She'd broken it once, before they'd taken away her shoes and anything else hard that she might throw. 

Tonight it seemed especially bothersome to her as she tossed and turned. Finally she got up and started prowling restlessly around her cell. Eventually she came to a halt in her favorite spot, standing behind the door to her cell, forehead leaned against the cool bars, hands dangling out on either side of the lock. 

Her long hair fell forward hiding her face from the cameras, assuming anyone was paying attention after all the work she'd done training them to think that all the action was going to happen while there were people around for her to fight. After her first failed escape she could hardly try making them think she was helpless again. Oh it wasn't impossible, the guards in particular were macho enough to think she wasn't as good as them, so they gave her chances to test them, but they weren't quite dumb enough to give her a real chance to escape. 

But now they all thought she was stupid, skilled enough to be dangerous but too stupid, too stubborn to quit beating her head against a brick wall. 

Belle had heard the helicopter fly in the day before, it hadn't flown out yet. 

She stood behind the locked door to her cell, head lowered, hands clasped loosely, innocently hiding the lock from view just in case someone was still bothering to watch her when she was alone and presumably helpless in her cage, at least as long as their was no one around for her to kill for a key. 

She smiled and thought about what a wonderful person her boyfriend, no husband, was to force her to practice picking locks. Belle slid the broken frame from the glasses of the last lab technician she'd killed into the old fashion lock on the door of her cell and gently began nudging the tumblers into place. 

It took time, especially with her crude tools, but Belle had time, the whole night if need be and eventually the lock clicked open for her. 

Belle opened the door and started running. She knew exactly where she was going, each of her earlier, doomed attempts had told her something about the lab's lay out. 

She was half way to the landing pad when the first guard intercepted her flight. Belle threw her erstwhile lock-pick like a dart, driving it into the man's throat. She paused by the corpse, almost laughing with delight as she scooped up his handgun, they never carried anything but stun guns around her, just in case they got tempted to use them or in case she got her hands on one. This nice gentleman hadn't bothered to take the time to trade weapons before coming after her. 

With a fully loaded clip and her opponents being restrained by a fear of harming her baby Belle reached the helicopter with relative ease. 

Getting it off the ground was more difficult, the wide array of buttons and gauges effectively camouflage the starter and Belle had to shoot two more guards before she got the rotator blades spinning. 

The helicopter rose unstably into the air under Belle's inexperienced control. Her face was drawn into an intense scowl of concentration as she directed the ungainly machine away from the lab where she'd been held. 

The radio crackled to life. "Belladonna, there's a storm in the mountains!" Cornelius exclaimed. "An expert pilot would be challenged to make it out alive, land before you hurt yourself!" 

Belle rolled her eyes, "Yo're a'ways s'negative Doc: 'Yo' gonna die, de bebe's gonna die,' ain't yo evah gonna find a new refrain to sing? Not dat I'll be hearin' it if yo' did 'cause I be sayin' bubbye." 

Cornelius continued ranting but Belle tuned him out to focus on her flying. 

As she rose out of the sheltering valley where the lab was situated gusts of wind started battering at the helicopter offering credence to Cornelius' statements. 

Belle's lips pursed into a hard line as she fought to keep from being blown down into the rocky forest landscape beneath her. When she cleared the ridge a blast of wind sent the 'copter rocking, Belle over compensated and lost control. The last thing she saw was the ground spinning toward her. 

****** ****** ****** 

Remy superstitiously watched the silver-haired mercenary across the cantina. He'd stolen a car and driven all night to get back to a large enough city to find the type of person he needed. This big, rough looking man could do what they needed and in Remy's unique perceptions he radiated misery. 

Nervously Remy wetted his lips then, modulating his empathy to radiate sympathy and familiarity he approached the man, hoping the rumors about the mercinary's motives where accurate and that he'd be naturally inclined to take up Remy's cause without too much manipulation. All the while fearing he'd wasted too much of Belle's limited time. 

****** ****** ****** 

Dr. Cornelius worked frantically on Belle's broken body, trying to stabilize her, desperately working to save the child. A chill wind swept through the operating room. "I will take over from here," a cold voice announced. 

Cornelius spun to face the intruder, beneath his surgical mask his mouth gaped open at the sight of a toweringly tall man with cold, dispassionate eyes flanked by two women, one slender and lithesome, the other athletic and muscular. All three were dressed in surgical garb, behind them a spinning whirlpool of darkness crouched in one corner of his surgery. 

Cornelius drew a breath to call for his guards when the man spoke again. "I have merely come to reclaim what is mine, do not force me to destroy you in the process. Your endeavors to date have shown promise… it would be unfortunate if you were prevented from reaching your full potential." 

"Dr. Essex," Cornelius breathed with something like awe in his eyes. 

"I have been know as that," Sinister admitted. 

"I could work for you," Cornelius offered on impulse as he backed away from Belle. 

"I will consider it at a more opportune time," Sinister said as Vertigo and Archlight moved Belle to a stretcher a moment later the four of them disappeared back through the portal. 

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	9. 9 of 14

**Tested**

Disclaimer: Characters and Premise are borrowed from the Marvel, I'm not making any money.

Part 9 

"Dere, she's bein' held dere," Remy said leaning over his pilot's shoulder and pointing. The grizzled mercenary nodded, rolling his eyes at the obvious statement, the complex below was the only sign of mankind they'd seen in over twenty minutes. 

"By savin' her yo' make up for your son dyin'," Remy whispered, reinforcing the spell his empathetic powers had woven around the mercenary, praying he'd been gentle enough for the man's mind to survive intact. "Yo' can let go of de guilt den Nat'an." 

"Remy," Singer called, offering him a gun. 

"Non, got m' powers, dey be bettah dan any gun," Remy replied. "Everyone else ready for dis?" 

"We're ready Remy," Lapin said. 

"Den take her down," Remy said to Nathan. "Yo' wait wid de 'copter, make shor our retreat ain't cut off, we'll get ma Belle." 

"Fine, clear a landing zone," Nathan ordered with a glance at Singer. 

The Assassin girl slid open a door and leaned out to spray the landing pad with bullets, handling her machine gun like the professional she was. For good measure Remy added a few explosions to the mix. 

Seconds before the helicopter touched down the five teens jumped out to storm the building. 

Singer took point with Remy at her shoulder, using his explosions to destroy anything that might have provided cover from her machine gun. He'd considered projecting a shield of fear around them but didn't know how to target their opposition without affecting his friends as well. Delores followed him, clutching her medical bag and trying not to look at the bodies Singer and Remy left behind. Lapin and Pierre covered the group's rear; each of them carried a handgun with a certain distasteful reluctance. 

A flash of color drew Lapin's attention to a side passage. "Dere!" he yelled in warning, turning to fire. 

Pierre followed suit but the two boys rapidly realized there were two many soldiers for them to keep from being overwhelmed. 

"Remy, a little help here!" Lapin yelled, snapping off several quick shots then loading a fresh clip into his gun. 

Remy turned in time to see Pierre collapse, hands pressed over a bullet wound in his gut. "No, he cried and Gambit's form seemed to catch fire. Tendrils of pink energy snaked out from him to touch off random explosions. 

The soldiers pulled back as several of their guns took on the pink glow characteristic of Gambit's power then exploded. Lapin glanced at the flame wreathed weapon he carried then with a fatalistic shrug tossed it after the soldiers like a grenade. Singer held her machine gun close, using her body to shield it from Remy's pyrotechnics. "Aim it at dem!" she yelled. 

"Tryin'," Remy cried. "Yo' keep goin', get Belle. Lapin, 'Lores, get Pierre to de 'copter. M' de distraction, don' wait for me when yo' leave." 

"Remy…" Lapin began to protest. 

"Go! 'M too dangerous," Remy yelled, using his empathy to touch off his friends' fight or flight reflexes. 

Lapin and Delores pulled back, dragging Pierre between them. After a few steps Lapin swung Pierre into his arms. Delores snatched up the gun the injured boy had dropped and moved to guard their retreat. 

For a moment Singer's aim drifted toward Remy then she shook herself and resumed her advance. Remy picked the heaviest concentration of soldiers and headed right toward them. 

When his friends' footsteps had faded in the distance Remy released his tenuous grip on his powers. Any object his eyes focused on for more than a few seconds exploded. He left glowing footprints in his wake like landmines. The effects of his empathy caused the opposing forces to dissolve into chaos, half of them dropping their weapons and fleeing in terror while the remainder turned their weapons on anything that moved. 

****** ****** ****** 

Belle woke knowing her baby was gone. She took stock of her surroundings and condition; she was whole. She was not pregnant. She was back in her cell. The door was standing open and she was not alone; Mary White was leaning against the back wall of the cell. 

Belle surged to her feet only to stumble as a wave of dizziness struck her. 

"Your lover-boy is here to rescue you, wouldn't want to miss that," Mary commented as Belle recovered herself. 

"M' bebe?" Belle demanded. 

"You lost it," Mary replied. "Your own fault really, you shouldn't have pulled all those dumb stunts." 

A look of pain crossed Belle's face, she ducked out of the cell door, slamming it after her. Mary White watched her go then flipped on a comm. Badge. "Mission accomplished," she said and a black portal appeared to retrieve her. 

****** ****** ****** 

Lapin's breath came in harsh gasps as he tried to run without jostling the wounded friend in his arms. He couldn't let himself think about blood slowly saturating his shirt where Pierre's body was cradled against him or about the shallow, pain-filled breaths that marked the other boy's fight for his life. Anything that might slow him down had to be ignored. 

Delores held position a yard ahead of Lapin, nervous sweat gleaming against her coffee colored skin, her years of training as a healer taking a backseat to the lessons in self-defense and survival that had been drilled into her ever since she could walk. She hadn't picked up a weapon since beginning her training with Tante Mattie, but she held the gun with practiced ease and a morbid part of her mind giggled, "Jus' like ridin' a bike." 

Delores heard the tramp of boots coming toward them and gestured for Lapin to pause. The pair pressed themselves against the wall and waited. A moment later one of the base's numerous guards and a tech rounded the corner; Delores shot the guard and took aim at the tech. "Start runnin' if yo' to live," she said. 

Both Delores and Lapin breathed a sigh of relief as the unarmed man made the smart choice and turned tail. 

"Jus' a few more minutes," Lapin panted. 

"He's gonna be fine," Delores said. "Gut wounds can take days 'fore dey kill." 

" 'Ssumin' de bad guys don' finish all of us off 'fore Singer gets back," Lapin said. 

"Dat is de 'ssumption," Delores replied. "Come on." 

Lapin fell back as they reached the door to the landing pad, letting Delores scout ahead. 

"It's clear," a cool, collected voice called. Delores saw their pilot standing in front of his helicopter, the barrel of a large, intimidating rifle resting casually against his shoulder. 

Lapin and Delores exchanged a relieved look then jogged out to the helicopter. 

****** ******* ****** 

Singer glanced back down the hall making sure she'd left her friends behind; almost grateful circumstances had driven them apart. 

As soon as she'd seen the size of the sprawling complex she'd known what she'd have to do, but it was her secret, a secret she'd only ever shared with Belle because Belle would have felt the same if their places had been reversed. 

Singer opened a closet door and slipped inside. She settled herself in lotus position her machine gun resting in her lap, covering the door then she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. A moment later she was back on the other side of the door, back in the hall, or at least a part of her soul was. 

Barely more than a ghost Singer's consciousness sped down the halls at the speed of thought. When she reached a dead end she thought about her body and she was instantly back where she'd begun ready to try another path. 

When Singer found a dead body in a area the rescue team hadn't reached yet she grinned. The man had died of a slit throat and the blood was still flowing. "Chere-Belle, knew yo' wouldn' sit 'round waitin' to be rescued by no one, not even your husband," She said to herself opening her eyes and running to retrace the path her astral wanderings had discovered. 

Once she reached the body in the flesh Singer paused listening for sounds of fighting. Three bodies later she spotted Belle. The blonde girl was stalking yet another guard. There were tears on her cheeks but Belle's eyes were cold and hard, her movements purposeful and predatory. 

Singer waited until Belle had her kill then drew the other girl's attention with a low whistle. 

"Hey chere, yo' been busy?" Singer asked. 

"Dey took m' baby, 'm gonna kill dem all," Belle said with icy determination. 

"Not practical Belle. We kill everyone we come 'cross, oui. Mais we don' seek dem out. Pierre's down, dey're waitin' for us to get out of here so's he can get patched up proper," Singer said. "Remy's a'ready los' Belle, somet'ing wrong wit' his powers. Yo' hold us up mebbe we lose Pierre too." 

"Non, gotta kill dem," Belle cried. 

"Den yo' die and Remy died for rien!" Singer snapped. 

Belle hesitated. A door slamming sounded behind them. Belle turned and ran on silent feet toward her new prey. With an annoyed shake of her head Singer followed. 

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	10. 10 of 14

**Tested**

Disclaimer: Characters and Premise are borrowed from the Marvel, I'm not making any money.

Part 10 

Between the strobe like light of his explosions Gambit caught glimpses of the structure behind reality, of the energy patterns the world was built upon and flashes of the emotions surrounding him. In those fleeting moments of clarity he knew how to manage the power raging through him, consuming him. 

Then, like smoke, it would slip through his fingers leaving him to struggle for control, to ride the surge of power blind. 

A woman pointed a gun toward Gambit, her thrill of triumph singling her out in his mind. A moment before she pulled the trigger Gambit gestured toward her and her clothing became a bomb sheathing her body. 

Remy felt the acid backwash of his powers flowing through his veins, eating at him, hollowing out his body. He felt like a paper lantern containing the sun. 

In the momentary flashes of sight he watched people shielding their eyes, turning away from him. The hard, white light emanating from him drove off shadows, drained colors. The harsh glare was reflected back at him by the walls, the ceiling, the floor, the very eyes of the men he was there to destroy. 

Remy felt the floor disintegrating beneath his feet and hurried on. 

****** ****** ****** 

Nathan prowled restlessly around the helicopter as Delores worked to make Pierre comfortable and applied a field dressing to his wound. Lapin sat in the entrance to the helicopter, he was supposed to be helping Nathan stand guard, but his gun lay beside him, practically forgotten, as he scrubbed at the blood coating his arms and chest. As soon as they'd reached the helicopter he'd stripped off his shirt but the blood had already soaked through to his skin. 

"Day dream later," Nathan announced startling the red haired teen. 

Lapin jumped, snatching his gun. "Wit' de feud an' all yo'd t'ink I'd be more comfortable wit' dis," Lapin stammered as he realized who'd startled him. "Trut' be tol' it hasn' been so much of a big deal since 'fore I was ole 'nough to notice. I mean we don', didn' like each other or rien, mais no one died, we jus' fooled 'round. An' when we fought Candra, it was different, de adults were wit' us, none of m' close friends got hurt too bad. Not to mention us mos'ly usin' crossbows at home…" 

"Don't make excuses," Nathan said. "Just keep the gun in your hand and your eyes peeled." 

Lapin nodded, coloring lightly. 

"Do you think you can keep your mind of business long enough for me to go find Belladonna and Singer?" Nathan asked. 

"Oui," Lapin said. "I'll keep 'Lores an' Pierre safe." 

"While you're at it keep our retreat open as well," Nathan said stalking toward the compound. Under his breath he muttered, "How'd I let a bunch of kids talk me into a hair brained rescue like this one? Should have taken over from the moment I signed on. Nothing I could do to help Tyler, I'm no doctor, but this… this is right up my alley and I'm not letting that girl die." 

Nathan moved quickly through the compound, bypassing hallways marked with the scorched signature of Remy's power in favor of the trail of bullet riddled corpses Singer had left in her wake. 

As the trail grew warmer Nathan realized its nature had changed; the killing wasn't the incidental removal of obstacles anymore, it was the goal. 

Nathan frowned unhappily. "Damn fool kids," he muttered. "No sense of priority." 

A few minutes later he rounded a corner and found Belle standing undecided at the intersection of two corridors, Singer was trailing reluctantly after her. 

"It's well past time to go," Nathan said flatly. 

Belle spun aiming her weapon at him. Singer grabbed the rifle's barrel and yanked it skyward. "He's our pilot," she hissed. 

Nathan nodded shortly. "And our scheduled departure was several minutes ago. Stop screwing around!" 

"Forget dis," Belle snapped starting down one corridor. Nathan grabbed her shoulder and spun her back around. Belle pulled a knife. Nathan knocked it out of her hand then popped her under the chin. 

Swinging Belle's unconscious body over his shoulder Nathan turned back in the direction he'd come from. "I'm not carrying the both of you," he told Singer. "Either come or be left behind." 

"Dis wasn' my idea," Singer said. "I been tellin' Belle we gotta go since I caught up wit' her." 

Nathan didn't bother to reply and Singer fell in step behind him. 

****** ****** ****** 

Remy's breath came in ragged, pained gasps. He clasped his knees to his chest; unable to continue moving, every scrape of strength and will that he could muster was focused on keeping his power from ripping his flesh apart. 

In some ways the most frightening part of it was the feeling that he wouldn't die if that happened. Afterwards he sensed he wouldn't be Remy anymore, or even human, but he wouldn't be dead. A part of him was tempted to just let go, to become his power. It sang to him, called to him, whispered of unlimited power, the power to burn the world to a cinder, to release the sort of energy that would make Magneto's threat of a nuclear disaster look like a kid playing with firecrackers and that was what was truly scary. 

Around him Remy could sense everything coming apart. The freed atoms swirled as if caught in a whirlwind buoyed up by the power fluxing through him, begging him to let it go. The only thing holding it back was Remy's knowledge that his friends still might still be close enough to be caught in the wave of destruction. 

****** ****** ****** 

Elsewhere in the compound Dr. Cornelius stared at the monitor screen. The remains of the army he'd been given where arrayed in a nervous semi-circle at the edges of the screen. A roiling ball of plasma that consumed everything it touched filled most of the view though. It was expanding; eating through floors, walls and ceilings and somewhere at the heart of the storm was the demon-eyed mutant boy who'd wrecked so much havoc on his forces and facilities. The only thing Cornelius could compare this to was witnessing the birth of a star…from a distance that could be measured in meters rather than light-years. 

Cornelius watched with a hungry sense of wonder, imagining the power he'd wield assuming he could break the boy to his will… and assuming he survived the next few minutes. 

****** ****** ****** 

Nathan climbed into the helicopter unceremoniously dropping Belle in a seat and starting preparations for take off. 

Singer hopped in behind him, securing Belle's seat belt then taking her own place. 

"Wait, Remy ain't back…" Lapin began. 

"He said to leave him," Singer stated. 

"Mais we ain't really goin' to do it," Lapin exclaimed. 

"An' have him blow up de 'copter?" Singer disagreed. "Hell yes we are." 

"Non!" Lapin yelled back. 

"Get in your seat and shut up!" Nathan barked in a tone of voice that wouldn't be questioned. 

"Dis be wrong," Delores said taking a stand beside Lapin. 

Behind them the roof of the complex disappeared a bright glow that competed with the early morning sunshine streamed out from the facility, the leading edges of the light carried a faint tinge of the distinctive pink color of Remy's powers, it's heart was pure, blindingly intense, white light. 

"He's your friend, but it would be a fool's errand to go back," Nathan said. "You said yourselves that he was a danger to everyone near him." 

Regretfully Lapin and Delores took their places and the helicopter lifted into the skies under Nathan's sure control, leaving the base and Remy behind. 

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	11. 11 of 14

**Tested**

Disclaimer: Characters and Premise are borrowed from the Marvel, I'm not making any money.

Part 11 

Remy screamed in agony as he fought. His friends, the team he'd led into this inferno, would be hurt if he lost it. Scott would have never forgiven him if he harmed his own team. Scott always maintained control. The X-Men would never be endangered by his power or by his emotions. His team was counting on him not loosing it. Scott would never forgive him if he failed. 

Remy took control of the raw energy and swirling nuclei surrounding him and reversed his power, pushing electrons back to their orbits, forging bonds between atoms, cementing molecules into solids. Turning the blazing explosion of power off. 

The nervous men surrounding Remy jumped back as the glow died and a thick, choking layer of dust fell out of the air where it had been. The naked body of the mutant responsible plummeted to the bottom of the depression he'd burned into the bedrock beneath the compound's floor. Half buried in the powder fine dust he lay still and silent, like a doll tossed aside by a careless child. 

"Get him in the sensory deprivation tank before he wakes up!" Dr. Cornelius barked over the crackling of the intercom system. 

The remaining personnel of the base's army glanced uncertainly at one another. 

"Jonsas, Navarro get down there!" Cornelius growled picking out two of the debacle's survivors from the crowd. Cornelius couldn't help but shake his head in disgust, a strike force of five high schoolers and the pregnant teen they'd come to rescue had all but decimated his forces and only one of the six had any mutant powers worth noting, it never would have been like this during Weapon X's existence. 

Tentatively the two men he'd volunteered sat with their legs dangling into the four meter deep, smooth sided, crater Remy had created. Sun light sparkled in the dust-laden air stealing in through the matching hole in the roof. 

With a deep breath the men scooted forward, reaching the bottom of the pit in a controlled slide. 

Cautiously they poked at Remy, when he didn't stir they quickly secured a rope around his torso and yelled for their compatriots to pull him up. Even before they began their own climb out of the pit Remy's unconscious body was hustled off to an undamaged portion of the sprawling facility and a sensory depravation tank Cornelius hoped would contain him. 

****** ****** ****** 

Nathan glanced over his shoulder at his passengers. "We're going to have to refuel soon, how's the boy doing?" 

Delores paused in the middle of moving from Belle, who was curled up in her seat and had been unresponsive since regaining consciousness, to Pierre, who lay on the floor at the rear of the helicopter, his mind floating in a haze of drugs as his body labored to repair the damage the bullet had wrote. "Pierre's stable," she said. "He can hol' on 'till we get home." 

Nathan nodded accepting her unspoken veto on hospitals without comment. "There's an airstrip in Compeche where they won't ask questions or remember us after we're gone. From there we'll fly across the Gulf and get you back to Louisiana." 

Nathan looked from Lapin, who was staring back in the direction they'd come from, still absently picking at the flakes of dried blood clinging to his skin, to Singer, who was breaking down her machine gun, meticulously oiling each part and determinedly not looking back at her wounded boyfriend. Nathan wondered for the dozenth time what had possessed him to get involved in this disaster in the making then said, "This bird wasn't made with distance in mind, we'll need to dump any extraneous cargo. Can you two handle that?" 

Singer looked happy to be given something to do. Lapin didn't acknowledge Nathan until the young Assassin nudged him back into awareness. "Shor, whatevah," he said disinterestedly. 

When Nathan returned after purchasing fuel he found Belle had joined the other two teens. Upon seeing his surprised look, Belle said, "Dere be somet'ing dat needs doin' at home an' 'M eager to get to it." 

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	12. 12 of 14

**Tested** Disclaimer: Premise and characters are the property of Marvel, I'm just borrowing them for a bit of non-profit fun. 

Part 12 

He was aware, that he was sure of. Awake or asleep, that was impossible to determine, but he could wonder about the question, thus he knew he existed. 

It wasn't dark it was more than that, he'd always been able to see in the dark. The faint glow of a digital watch made an adequate lantern for his demon's eyes. There had never been a time when those eyes hadn't been able to make out something of his surrounding. He remembered an all-nighter in second grade, one of the rare times Josette had let him go to a friend's house, Armand had been gone on a long business trip and for once Remy hadn't been carrying bruises she was ashamed to have his friends' parents see. They'd told ghost stories, tried to frighten one another with tales of Baron Samde and the Tithe Collector, of vampires and zombies and everything that goes bump in the night. Remy had laughed at their stories, he had no fear of monsters that disappeared when the lights were turned on, truth be told, he could see better in the gloom. Much better than Armand, the dark was a friend, a place to hide, nothing to fear. This was not dark, this was nothingness, deep, endless fields of nothing that made his eyes ache with the futile strain of trying to pierce its heart and see. 

There was no sound except the pounding of blood against his eardrums, and he was thankful for that lonely sound, at least he knew he still had a heart and that it beat. Outside of that was silence. Essex's base had been silent, the air handling equipment had only run intermittently and his rooms had been so isolated. Remy now knew Essex had done that on purpose, had kept him away from anyone who might have given him a clue as to Essex's true, malevolent purpose. Grey Crow, no Scalphunter, had been the only Marauder Essex had deemed discrete enough to associate with Remy. He'd been cold, he didn't love what he did, he wasn't a psychopath, just a professional killer, like Wolverine, like Belle now. Remy laughed and sound was swallowed up by the silence around him before it reached his ears, he seemed to have an attraction to killers, put him in a room with a dozen people and he'd make friends with the assassin. Scalphunter had liked him, Remy had felt honest emotions in their friendship; it hadn't stopped the man from hunting him down like an animal when Sinister had ordered it. 

He felt nothing. Nothing supported him. Nothing touched him. There was no hot or cold. There was no up or down. He was floating in something that eluded his senses. If it weren't for the pulsing of his blood he would have wondered if he were alive. He didn't feel alive, he couldn't feel were his body ended and the stuff surrounding him began. Nothing had always been what he expected when he died, he hadn't expected to be aware of it though, or aware of nothing, after he died. Of course he wasn't actually dead, or he didn't think so anyway. 

If he were dead, he'd like to see Scott. He hadn't made many friends; Scott was the only one who'd died before him. Or at least that was what he thought; Pierre had been hurt pretty bad. If things had gotten worse all the friends he'd brought here might be dead. Belle and the baby might have died months ago at the hands of the people he'd come to save her from. Still since there appeared to be something after death, if he was dead, then seeing Scott didn't seem like too much to ask. 

Remy counted the beats of his heart. He tried to remember how many times a minute that was supposed to happen. He wondered if that still applied if he were dead and only imagining that his heart was beating. 

He started seeing colors, meaningless, purposeless splotches, his eyes wanting so bad to see that his brain manufactured visions. He wished they were more interesting. They didn't do much to occupy his thoughts. 

He started hearing murmurs in the darkness. Whispers not quite heard. Telling him… he didn't know what. Imagined or real he didn't want to hear them anymore clearly. 

He wondered what it was that he liked so much about killers. A soldier turned mercenary, an assassin who found a cause, a girl carrying on a family tradition of paid murder, nearly half of the people who meant something important to him. Remy wondered if it was hard for them to do what they did. He'd killed, when Hammerhead had been trying to beat his skull in, threatening Mia, he'd forced his hand into the other man's mouth, had sensed the metal plates in his head and metal took a charge so easily. Kneeling over the smoking ruin of the man he'd killed he hadn't felt regret. He wondered how different it was for them, killing without warning, knowing the other person would never know until it was too late, or would never stand a chance. Killing because you were paid to, because you were told to, because it got you something, someone, you wanted, was it truly so different from what he'd done? 

The meaningless splotches of color slowly became a sparkling tapestry of potential energy. Remy felt relief to see it, to see anything again. The potential around him was densely packed, much more dense than he remembered air being. 

The whispers became as clear as the beats of his heart marked the passing of time. They told him they were his god, his everything, they had taken him from the world and could keep him here or return him as they chose, there was no life except through them. He would obey them, kill for them, live for them, die for them, he was nothing except as he was of use to them. 

Remy growled at the whispers that no one owned him, that he had no god. 

The whispers pressed back, "Deny us and this will be your forever." Then Remy saw them, hungry, hating, grasping, fearing minds. Emotions churning and roiling, and so human. So they hadn't killed him after all. These people that had injured Pierre, taken Belle and his child, forced him to help Singer torture a man, force him to kill an innocent by stander, these people held him still, tried to claim his very soul with their lying whispers, locked him in this emptiness-filled place. 

Remy felt a dark rage building in him. Nothing went right anymore, Belle, Scott, Wolverine, the world turning ever more violently against mutants. All the emotions he'd been forcing down came bubbling up: grief, rage, betrayal, fear, anger, pain, loss, revulsion, hatred, confusion, all flooding back, all just as intense as when he'd pushed them aside to be dealt with later. Now was later and this reckoning wouldn't be denied any longer. 

He felt/saw/sensed their ugly emotions flickering around him as well as the frames of potential energy that contained those emotions, their bodies, and he reached out with his powers. He felt an instinctual buzzing in the back of his brain warning him against what he was about to do but he ignored it, he wanted them to suffer, to hurt, to die. They were the reason he hurt so badly. He took hold of the potential energy that flowed through their bodies. Arrogant creatures, believing they controlled him, believing they could steal the world from him, fools the lot of them. He took control of that energy and released it. Their bodies, their flesh came apart in wet, ripping explosions as he charged the living tissue and turned it into a weapon against them. 

The emotional cores that had been caged by flesh were set loose. Screaming, horror, dying, confused, hurt, masses of blackest emotion set free, boiling across the psychic landscape like seething cauldron of acid/poison, laying waste to everything in it's path. 

Remy screamed as the blood-dark emotions swept over him. Screamed until his throat bled. Passed out screaming still. Woke to the choking, suffocation of bad air. Trashed in the nothing/dense void until a tube wrapped around his arm. Pulled himself along it, he found a wall, something solid something real, the feel of it: hard, smooth, cold against his fingertips the first sensation he'd felt in a time that was timeless. Still no air. No breath. He s sent his powers flowing into the wall. 

The shock wave from the resultant explosion drove him back into unconsciousness, but even as his awareness faded Remy felt a current taking hold of his body. 

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	13. 13 of 14

**Tested** Disclaimer: Premise and characters are the property of Marvel, I'm just borrowing them for a bit of non-profit fun. 

Part 13 

They'd returned days ago, but not to New Orleans, instead they took Pierre to Tante Mattie's cottage in Slidell and there they stayed, waiting for the right time. 

"De Assassins be meetin' tonight," Belle said. "Are yo' wit' me?" 

" 'M a'ways at your back," Singer confirmed without hesitation. 

Lapin just nodded grimly, his high spirits and occasionally questionable sense of humor left behind at the lab complex along with Remy. 

Delores bit her lip, looking toward the bedroom where Pierre lay, still far from recovered. " 'M sorry, I can't," she said. 

Belle nodded, "Tonight ain't your sort of t'ing anyways," she said, forgiving the other girl for not standing with her. 

"I'll see this through to the end," Nathan said. Belle took his decision in stride, after getting over the initial shock of his not leaving as soon as he dropped them off nothing the big mercenary did could truly surprise her. 

"Yo're not goin' to interfere? No objections or tryin' to protect me neither," Belle checked. 

"If I had someone to hold responsible for my son's death I'd do the same," Nathan replied. 

"Lapin make shor he has somet'ing 'ppropriate to wear," Belle ordered. 

" 'Course," Lapin said shortly, getting up to leave. 

"Don' let anyone see yo', not yet," Belle warned. 

"I know what 'M doin' Belle," Lapin snapped. "Don' tell me how to do m' job an' I won' tell yo' how to kill dat bastard brother of yours!" 

****** ****** ****** 

Several hours after nightfall the foursome arrived at the Assassin's meeting place. Belle gave the sentries an imperial look coupled with a sharp gesture and they fell back letting Belle and her entourage pass unobstructed. 

The daughter of the Assassins' Patriarch shoved open the doors and strode into the center of the meeting without ceremony. Lapin and Singer flanked her with Nathan covering their backs. 

"M' mission was compromised, I was betrayed, two of de united clans died for dat betrayal," Belle announced glaring directly at Julien. 

For a moment shock held her audience silent then their gazes followed Belle's. 

"T'ink what yo're sayin' Belle," Marius objected. "Yo' start dis an' one of yo' won' walk out of dis room." 

"An' if de Assassins cared for justice we'd a'ready know which one it'd be," Lapin said. 

"Silence T'ief, yo' got no voice here," Marius barked. 

Lapin aimed the crossbow he carried. "Dis gives me voice wit' yo', neh? 'Cause of your practices an' your murderin' son Remy be dead." 

"Lapin!" Belle reprimanded sharply, shutting the young thief up. " 'M doin' dis Daddy. Julien cost me too much." 

"I can't stop yo'," Maruis said as people began clearing the center of the room. 

Julien stepped out into the make shift arena. "Yo're a fool Belle an' yo're goin' to die for your T'ief lover." 

Belle drew a short sword and a knife then stood waiting. Julien met her with a rapier. 

Brother and sister circled one another, tentatively testing the other's defenses. 

Belle went on the offensive, attacking with a series of brutal cleaving blows designed to shatter Julien's narrow blade. 

He danced back dodging her blows, looking for Belle's efforts to open a hole in her guard that he could take advantage of. 

Belle lunged forward, Julien parried, trapping her blade against the ground. A moment before he could kick it out of her hands Belle sliced at him with her knife driving him back. 

Julien took advantage of the sudden distance between them to raise a hand in preparation for firing an energy blast. 

Knowing what was coming thanks to Remy's warning Belle dove under the blast. Executing a front roll she came to her knees at Julien's feet, before he could counter she drove her knife under his rib-cage and into his heart. 

"Yo' nevah were as good as yo' liked to t'ink yo' were," she said as he died. 

****** ****** ****** 

Remy woke with the coppery taste of blood in his mouth. Through a shroud of black death Remy could faintly see a glittery tapestry of potential energy that filled his senses with meaningless patterns. He staggered to his feet, hands stretched out in front of him he stumbled to the nearest wall. It felt slimy beneath his hands. A dark premonition made him bring his hand to his mouth. Remy wasn't surprised when he tasted more blood. 

Running his hands over the walls Remy felt more and more blood, interspersed with globs of flesh; the walls were practically painted with the stuff, because of what he'd done. Remy pictured it in his mind; "What had he done?" …He'd reached out with his power and charged the potential that gave structure to the emotional cores he'd sensed around them, he'd charged their bones, turned their skeletons into bombs that had ripped their bodies apart spraying the room with blood and flesh, he'd killed them. 

They'd never had a chance, never known what had hit them. He'd felt their pain, their surprise, their horror as they died. He felt ill, the slaughterhouse smell of the room wasn't helping him, nor was the lingering fog of death emotions clogging the air. 

Remy felt his way to the door, when it didn't open for him he groped for a doorknob and eventually found a keypad attached to the wall beside it. Remy pulled the keypad off the wall, charged it and threw it at the door. Then he stepped through the hole he'd created out into the hall. 

Gradually, awkwardly, he made his way from the lab where he'd been held captive. Vaguely sensing another mind Remy stopped in his tracks, he'd started to think he'd killed everyone in the facility. Crouching down against the wall, making himself as small a target as possible, Remy ran his hands over the floor searching for something to use as a weapon. 

Then it occurred to Remy that the other person was wandering randomly, purposeless. Straining to 'see' through the fog of death clouding his empathic abilities Remy realized that the emotional energy he sensed was unfocused, unlike any mind he'd sensed before. Rather than being a smooth, spinning continuum of feelings it was shattered, random shards overlapping and grating against one another, jumps from feeling to another without rhyme or reason. Broken. Remy could only imagine it was his doing, a side effect of the wave of destructive emotions he'd released into the astral plain. 

Once he was looking for them he found others. Some of them he'd walked right by, their minds were so destroyed he hadn't recognized them as human. They didn't move, they didn't think, they were little more than empty shell. 

Remy found a woman sitting on the ground, arms wrapped around her knees, rocking back and forth, shrieking in terror. He could see the spear of emotional energy that wasn't hers skewering her mind, a left over splinter of death-emotions he'd caused disrupting the normal ebb and flow of her feelings, trapping her in a nightmare. It occurred to him that she might heal if he eased the alien emotions out of her mind. "Dis be your fault Remy," he told himself when he hesitated at the thought of touching a mind infected with such devastation. Biting his lower lip, he put his hands on her shoulder and stared into where he thought her eyes must be then reached. 

Remy screamed, it was like being plunged into lava, pain, searing pain washed over his nerves and to his horror he realized he hadn't even made contact with the woman's mind yet. The pain was coming from his own mind, the black fire he'd released was clinging to the outside of his shields like napalm, laying in wait for him. Wanting it's revenge for what he'd done. 

He wrenched himself free of its grasp and retreated back into the sheltering coolness of his shields. Helplessly Remy stared down at the woman, understanding exactly what she was feeling, she had no defenses against the thing he'd set loose, no place to retreat to and he knew he didn't even dare try to repair the damage he'd done, not now, not when he knew he'd been standing at ground zero when the damage had been done. His mind survived, safe in the astral plane equivalent of a bomb shelter, alive, whole, but trapped by the fallout from the explosion he'd set off. 

Painstakingly Remy tried to gather the survivors together, realizing as damaged as they were, they'd die if left to their own devices. It wasn't easy, the less braindead ones followed whatever whim was top most in their minds and a few of them had been security guards who carried machine guns. Remy decided they could go wherever they liked. The empty ones didn't do anything. They sagged limply in his arms when he tried to move them, dead weight to drag through the spinning void of black veiled sparkles his world had become. He eventually gave up on them as well. 

In his efforts Remy stumbled on a break room. He filled cups of water and took them back to the survivors he'd found. He left them where the dangerous ones would hopefully find them, put them in the hands of the more docile, unarmed ones, and finally tried to pour water down the throats of the empty ones. 

Feeling his own stomach growl, it occurred to Remy that his wards would need food as well. He spend hours searching for a kitchen or cafeteria. 

When exhaustion claimed him he curled up in a cul-de-sac and fell asleep on the floor. 

Between the sensory deprivation tank and the loss of conventional vision Remy's time sense was completely distorted, he knew he woke up later. Minutes or hour later he couldn't have said. Morning, noon or night he had no way of knowing. He was less tired and more hungry so he went back to searching for a kitchen. 

As time wore on, Remy developed a routine bringing food and water to the survivors. Discovered a cot to sleep on. Memorized the turns between the kitchen and empty ones and the places were he left food and water for the others. 

Flashes of vision slowly returned, showing him the bloody tracks he'd left all over the facility. He thought about leaving, but the oppressive weight of the broken minds surrounding him sapped his will and guilt at his responsibility tied him to his routines 

****** ****** ****** 

Lapin paced restlessly around the barren containment… no 'waiting' area he, Belle, Singer and Nathan had been consigned to since Belle's duel with Julien days earlier. "Anyone evah tell yo' your trial system be backwards," he complained to the two girls. "Firs' yo' fight to de deat' den yo' look for evidence, what gives?" 

"Julien was guilty, he los'," Singer said serenely. "Dey're jus' lookin' for who he b'trayed us to." 

"If that's the case why are we locked up?" Nathan asked. 

Belle shrugged. "If dey don' find anyt'ing his friends, family, what have yo' got de right to claim I leveled false accusations, we 'ssume dat trial by combat works, mais we do have checks an' balances. Dat's why I needed yo' for seconds, if anyone does challenge m' claims all of dem fight all of us. Don' worry, it won' happen. Daddy won' fight me an' Julien's friends won' have de nerve to go up 'gainst me long as I got 'nough support dat dey can't overwhelm us, which I do." 

Nathan shook his head in disgust. "It's a wonder you people haven't decimated yourselves before now." 

Belle squirmed under Nathan's disapproving gaze. "Mos' de time we try to have evidence wit' us 'fore it goes dis far," She admitted. "No one wants to start a civil war, mais I know it's Julien, he tried to kill Remy de day of de weddin', he said de bebe wouldn' be born, he knew what was goin' to happen." 

For a moment silence reigned in the room then Singer said. "S' what's nex'? I mean after dey let us out of here." 

Belle sighed, relieved at the change of subject. "Firs' we gotta find a way to kill Candra, an' where she's at. After dat we should find who Mary White an' Jane Donis really were, dey were involved somehow. Den we kill dem too." 

"Count me out," Nathan said. "I wanted to see this finished, to see you find justice for the loss of your child. You had one person you blamed, now he is dead and you have three others to take his place. When will this be done?" 

"When I feel bettah!" Belle snapped. "An' I didn' ask for your help anyways." 

A knock at the door announced the arrival of visitors a moment before the lock turned. Maruis followed by two members of the Assassin's Council entered. 

"We found evidence Julien b'trayed us… yo' to Candra," Marius said. "He went crazy when she came to him, started b'lievin' dat she be a real god 'cause she didn' die. She had him t'inkin' he could take over de Guild, mebbe bot' Guilds, bring dem back into her thrall." 

"Why would this Candra target Belle?" Nathan asked. 

"She dictated who we be 'llowed to marry," Singer explained matter-of-factly. "She didn' give Belle an' Remy permission to have chil'ren, didn' give her blessin' to Remy's bein' born neither, dat's obviously why." 

"Why Candra acts as she does don' mattah, we a'ready wanted her dead," Marius said. "Yo're all free to go now." 

Lapin slipped past the Council members and out into the night, heading home to parents he hadn't seen in weeks. 

"See yo' tomorrow Belle," Singer said. "We'll start work on dat project yo' mentioned." 

Nathan walked out, then paused. "It'll be a few days before I move on," he said. "Try not to undo the effort I put into saving your hide until after I'm gone," he said. 

"Merci for helpin' me dis far," Belle said, her voice holding an apology for her earlier comments. "G'night Daddy." 

"Belle we need to talk," Marius said as the others left them alone. 

"Not tonight Daddy, please," Belle said looking at the floor. 

"A'right, later," Marius sighed. 

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	14. 14 of 14

**Tested** Disclaimer: Premise and characters are the property of Marvel, I'm just borrowing them for a bit of non-profit fun. 

Part 14 

Logan approached the mutant research facility with caution. They'd built the place in some of the most god-awful, isolated, unreachable terrain South America had to offer. Any sane person, or one with a less urgent need than his would have come by helicopter… and been shot down if they weren't welcome. He'd had to leave the jeep forty miles back, it was a tough vehicle, made for off roads; he was actually impressed by how far it had brought him. Despite the fortress' natural defenses he still expected guards, it worried him when he didn't pick up any traces of them. 

Watching the kill zones around the facility through his binoculars he did see movement, sighs of life, but it wasn't the sort of movement he was expecting. People wandering around without purpose, the sounds of random burst of gunfire, he was certain he'd seen one man walk up and stab another for no earthly purpose. Whatever was going on in side that building, it was bad. Common sense told him he wanted no part of this place, but the rumors he'd been following said these people had bought files from the Weapon X program, they might have information on him, his past, copies of the files Sabretooth had burned, he needed to know who he'd been, what kind of person he'd been before Weapon X got a hold of him. He wanted to be better than he was, he wanted to make things right, that meant going down there, finding out what was wrong with him and looking for a way to fix it. 

Logan started making his way down into the high mountain valley that housed the facility. As he got closer the sounds of screams and laughter echoed up to him, the sounds of madhouse with all the inmates turned loose. 

He made his way past the pathetic creatures roaming the grounds and into the building. The entire place reeked of blood, foot prints, hand marks, all painted in crimson, led away from the depths of the complex, Logan wondered if it were an indication of survivors or merely the marks of passage left behind from those madmen aimlessly roaming the grounds. As he made his way deeper into the complex he began finding other people, ones who made those he'd encountered before look like the lucky ones. These were ones who sat on the floor, rocking back and forth while they sobbed or worse yet, ones who stared blank-eyed at the walls. 

A soft murmur reached his ears, "Eat, sil vous plait. Yo' need to eat, chere." Logan felt his heart clench at the familiarly accented voice. Dreading what he'd find, Logan followed the gently pleading sounds. 

Remy was crouching in front of one of the victims, holding a spoon to the woman's mouth, trying to persuade her to eat. The teen looked like he was on the edge, his longish hair was stringy, eyes sunken and darkly circled, his skin pale with shock. 

"Rem?" Logan asked almost fearfully. 

The bowl of soup that had been balanced on Remy's knee clattered to the ground as the teen spun to confront Logan, his bo staff appearing in his hand almost like magic. As Remy recognized the other man his hand dipped into a pocket, emerging with a fan of cards. 

"It's just me, Remy," Logan said. 

"An' what's dat supposed to mean to me?" Remy demanded. "Why are yo' here? What do yo' want wit' me?" 

"I'm here to help, kid. I just wanna help," Logan replied. 

"Dat what yo' tol' Scott?" Remy asked bitterly. 

Logan flinched, "Look Rem you're in a mess here, let me help. What happened? Are you okay?" 

Remy turned away, shoulders slumping. "Don' need your help," he said. "Rien to do here anyway. Dey're all dead, even de ones who be 'live. Dere's nothin' lef' inside dem. Rien dat's whole, dey're all broken and dere's not a t'ing I can do to fix dem." 

"Then let's get out of here. You don't look so good kid, and it's a long walk." 

"I tol' yo', I don' need yo'!" Remy snarled. "Go 'way." 

"I was wrong, Scott's still alive," Logan said. 

Remy gave him an angry disbelieving glare, then turned and walked away. 

****** ****** ****** 

Marius knocked on Belle's door, "No more puttin' dis off Belle," he said. 

"A'right Daddy, I jus' been tired lately," Belle apologized opening the door. "De las' few months jus' caught up wit' me all at once it seems like." 

Marius closed the door behind him. "Yo' were seen dumpin' de gun," he said. "I started lookin' for what went wrong soon as I found yo' weren' on dat boat. Mebbe dey were lookin' for yo' a'ready 'cause of Julien, mais yo' still were sloppy to let yourself be seen. Yo' deal wit' whatevah was distractin' yo' 'fore your nex' 'ssignment or else yo' take a support position. Far as 'M concerned yo're on probation till yo' prove yo' can do de job right." 

Stunned Belle watched him leave in silence. 

****** ****** ****** 

Two days later, Logan had thoroughly searched the compound. He'd considered calling out for help, but he didn't know who he'd call. The X-Men would have come for Remy's sake, but he doubted they'd believe anything he said or trust him not to lead them into a trap. 

He could see this place eating away at Remy's spirit. Remy had been right, there was nothing they could do for these people, but Remy made no move to leave. He kept trying to help them even though he knew it was hopeless. Remy refused to speak with him, it made persuading him of anything next to impossible, he'd leave any room Logan entered without a word, but Logan could see he needed to get Remy away from the facility. 

Not knowing what else to do, Logan stalked Remy through the complex, he slipped up behind the teen and struck him in the back of the head, then scooped up Remy's unconscious body and started the long hike back to his jeep, hoping Remy would be more reasonable once they were away from that place and whatever had happened there. 

They were half way to the top of the pass leading out of the valley by the time Remy began to stir. 

Logan let the teen slip off his shoulder and leaned him against a boulder along side the path he'd been following. He kept Remy's wrists pinned, wanting to prevent any sort of altercation until he could explain himself. 

Remy's eyelids fluttered, a moment later he started struggling against Logan's hold, teeth clenched in a silent snarl. 

"Remy, listen to me kid!" Logan demanded. The telltale glow of Remy's power flowed up the teen's arms, Logan could feel the charge sinking it to his skin, seeking out the metal bonded to his bones. 

Remy grinned, his eyes burning with a deadly back fire as his pupils dilated until only a thin rim of red remained. "Yo' feel dat, don' yo'? Yo' could probably gut me for it went off, but it wouldn' save yo'. Lemme go, now." 

"Ya promise to listen to me and I'll let go," Logan said, gritting his teeth at the energy he could feeling building inside him. He could see it building in Remy too. Logan felt an apprehensive chill run up his spine as he realized that fire burned under Remy's skin, as if it ate at his muscles rather than burning the dust in the air around him like it had always done before. 

"D'accord," Remy said with a sharp nod of his head, a look of strain crossed his face and Logan felt Remy's charge dissipating, but the teen continued glowing. 

"I didn't know you could reverse it," Logan commented. 

"I been practicin'," Remy replied coldly. "Dere's lots of t'ings I can do dat I couldn' 'fore. 'M listen, s' talk." 

"I couldn't leave ya there, Rem. Being in that place wasn't good for you," Logan said deciding not to upset Remy by mentioning that he was starting to look like one of the light bulb people from 'Cocoon'. "We'll walk back to my jeep, then I'll drive you to the nearest town. You can go on your own way from there, if ya want." 

"I didn' ask for your help, Wolverine. I don' want it," Remy said. 

"Kid you're in the middle of nowhere. No one else is going to come out this way," Logan argued. "You may not want my help, but you need it. I know you're mad at me, but you're too smart, too good at surviving to let that push you into doing something stupid." 

"I hate you," Remy said. 

Logan's expression tightened at Remy's words. "It doesn't matter. I'm getting you back to civilization if I have to tie you up and haul you over my shoulder the whole damn way." 

Remy got up and started toward the path, stumbling over a rock in the road. Logan caught him before he could fall and received a cold, black-eyed glare in response. "I'll walk," he said, shaking Logan's hand off. 

It took twenty minutes for the glow of Remy's power to fade from his body, but Logan still found that the teen needed to be guided along a path he couldn't see. Not that Remy was willing to allow Logan to lead him. After several hours of stubbornly ignoring any offers of assistance, stumbling blindly over dips and rocks in the trail Remy grudgingly gave in to necessity and allowed Logan to lead him, but that didn't mean he was willing to acknowledge the older man presence. 

At first Logan tried making small talk, tried avoiding any touchy subjects. Remy steadfastly ignored him. It didn't take Logan long to give up the effort as pointless. A heavy, uncomfortable silence lay between them for the entire day's hike. When they stopped to set up camp for the night Logan told Remy to let him take care of things. Remy pretended not to hear and began groping around the edges of the clearing looking for firewood. 

Finally Logan had had enough of the silent treatment. "I was wrong Remy, I know that. I didn't kill him, Cyclops survived. I got lucky in that. I'm sorry about what I did, I want to make up for it. I never meant to hurt you." 

Remy paused in his efforts to start a campfire without his powers. "I've kilt people," he said. "Kilt people to defend m'self, to protect m' friends, Belle. I don' feel no guilt 'bout dat." Remy's pitch-black eyes tracked back toward the lab they'd left behind. "Mos'ly, I don' feel guilty," he amended. "Lots of people died 'cause I was stupid, 'cause I made mistakes. Dat hurts, I'd give anyt'ing to undo dat. Mais, I didn' mean for dem to die, dere was no malice in what I did. Why'd yo' kill Scott? I miss him." 

"I was screwed up Remy." Logan said. "I shouldn't have done it, but Jeannie meant everything to me, and it wasn't fair of Xavier to take her away like that…" 

"Jean don' love yo'," Remy stated flatly. 

"No, you're just a kid. Ya don't know what you're talking about," Logan argued. "I shouldn't of attacked Cyclops, but she did love me, before that she loved me." 

"I'm an empat'. Yo' made her hot, made her excited. She wanted yo', but Scott… He was de one she missed when he wasn' wit' her. He was de one who made her eyes light up when he walked t'rough de door," Remy said. 

"You're wrong, you're just lashing out at me," Logan said. "I'm not going to get mad, I'm in control. You've got a right to be upset." 

"I tol' yo', I hate yo'," Remy insisted. "I trusted yo', t'ought yo' were m' friend. Scott was m' friend. How could yo' do dat?" 

"I'm sorry, I don't know what else to say except I'm sorry." 

****** ****** ****** 

Several days later Logan watch as Remy bartered for ride back into civilization with a couple of farmers then drove off with them, leaving him behind. 

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	15. Epilog: Elsewhere Roads

**Elsewhere Roads**

Disclaimer: Premise and characters are the property of Marvel, I'm just borrowing them for a bit of non-profit fun.

Time passed in a dreamy unreality. 

Remy had bartered a ride with the first pair of farmers that he and Logan had come across, leaving the other man behind without a word or a thought as to how difficult things were going to be on his own. Remy had been used to traveling freely since he'd been a child. He'd crossed the breathe of the United States in a matter of months running from a band of hardened, professional killers. For him stealing vehicles or the cash for fares was only a bit harder than breathing. But now he was blind, afraid of his own powers and more helpless than he'd ever been in his life. And he couldn't even really bring himself to care. 

He felt worn thin, especially when it came to whatever gave him his powers. What had once been a comforting warmth in his veins, a domesticate fire he could summon at will to do his bidding was now a river of plasma, sun-stuff, running wild just below his skin and it took all the control he could muster to simply contain it. 

Remy was so tired, emotionally, mentally and physically he just felt wrung out. New Orleans might as well have been Pluto the distant planet would be just as easy to reach. Not that he really minded. He'd ripped himself apart to give Belle and the others a chance to reach safety; if it hadn't been enough he didn't want to know. If they'd died he'd already extracted as much vengeance as he could stomach. In a strange way his helplessness was freeing. There was nothing he could do, nothing left to be done, it was a convenient excuse to let himself go numb. Even so he was restless. 

The farmers had left him at an outpost of humanity so small it hadn't been worthy of a name. For three days he'd wandered aimlessly around the little settlement. When a family had taken pity on him and offered him a ride to the next village, he'd taken them up on it. 

The trip had taken several days and Remy had done his best to make himself useful, mostly he'd ended up entertaining the children with his slight of hand tricks, the ones that didn't require his powers. They'd left him with relatives in the next village, who'd sent him on to friends of theirs who were traveling and so his meandering journey had continued, moving always closer to larger concentrations of people and occasionally to the north. 

For the first few weeks he'd sensed Logan in the background, keeping an eye on him, it would have been so easy to go back to the older man, to let Logan take care of him, take him home. Even with his empathic abilities crippled by the backlash of having used his biokinetic charge on living beings and consequently opening his mind up to the moment of their deaths, he could still sense a person's general intentions. As angry as he was with Wolverine, he knew, deep down, that the older man meant him no harm, but in Remy's mind, to trust Logan now was to betray Scott's memory and so he pretended ignorance of the other's existence and eventually Logan satisfied himself that Remy truly didn't need him and he left. 

As time passed without the return of normal sight, Remy became more adept in interpreting the energy patterns around him. The emotional signatures of other people were easy, they were the only truly distinct features to his current form of vision. More gradually he learned to distinguish between the frozen, densely packed potential of a solid and the relatively empty, free flowing potential in the air. It wasn't seeing, wasn't even close, the difference between a table and a table with stuff on it wasn't worth mentioning, and solids tended to have cushions of packed air around them that fooled him into thinking they were larger than they truly were, but he could walk without worrying about smacking into things and Remy felt a little less at the mercy of fate. 

He started wandering off, disappearing and finding new rides on his own rather than waiting for his latest benefactor to hand him off to a friend or family member who was traveling in the right direction. Almost inevitably he eventually ended up taking a ride from the wrong person. It had been carelessness, he knew that, knew he should have recognized the wrongness in the man, but he hadn't been looking for it, had been too lost in his own head and too numb to care until a rough hand closed around his arm, and he'd been flooded with the man's hatred of foreigners and intention to leave him dead in the desert. 

In close quarters, fighting blind wasn't so much of a disadvantage, and the man's shock when Remy's sunglasses were lost, revealing eyes that were pools of blackness with just a hint of demon fire slowly returning to them, was enough to give Remy the fight. Remy left him lying in the dirt. He found a gun and some water in the truck, then disabled the starter and began walking along the road, letting his feet tell the difference between it's packed dirt and the softer stuff along side it, assuming if he stuck to this path he'd eventually find more people. Two days later another traveler had picked him up and his journey continued, only the fight had woken him from the hazy drifting. It wasn't enough just to be moving and surrounded by minds that weren't broken, Remy started making an effort to travel back toward New Orleans because ignorance wasn't bliss anymore, in truth not knowing his friends' fates was torture. 

About a week later Remy was laying in the back of a pickup truck and found himself blinking up at pale blue, marked with high, thin wisps of with, wondering what it was. Then Remy started laughing as he recognized a sky with clouds and realized he was seeing colors and reflected light rather than destructive potential once again. 

Remy rode with them to the next town then slipped away, half an hour later he was on the back of an old beat-up motorcycle headed back toward the states as fast as he could push it. 

****** ****** ****** 

Candra stomped into Essex's lab; subconsciously her telekinesis set her cape and hair rippling majestically around her. "I am no underling to be given orders by you Essex!" she thundered. 

"Madam, I have long since lost interest in your theatrics," Essex said setting aside his work. "You have lost your last hold within the Guild, you are currently of less value to me than my Marauders. You would do well to remember and rectify that." 

"I gave you immortality," Candra screeched. "You owe me your very existence!" 

Essex gave a long-suffering sigh. "You came to me. Four hundred years ago you were already on the verge of loosing control of your people. You traded me their bloodlines for medicines to renew their worship of you. In that blood I found the seeds of your immortality and applied that knowledge to another puzzle I'd long been studying." 

"It doesn't matter how, the fact remains, you are in my dept and forever will be. You promised me that they'd be mine, but I've lost them! It is you that owes me!" 

"You lost control of the Guild through your own inadequacy. Do you believe I enjoy watching centuries worth of work going to seed?" Essex demanded. 

"They were my children!" Candra exclaimed melodramatically. 

"I know their genetics, you haven't bred with them in a thousand years," Essex said dismissively. "And if you meant that figuratively… I have seen you with them, my dear. They are nothing more than play things to you." 

Candra seemed to crumple in on herself. "You gained immortality from the genetic legacy I bequeathed them, but it never breeds true. How many children could you bury before your heart grew cold. I've watched innumerable generations grow old and die leaving me behind. I want no more of love for transitory beings, but they are still mine and I will never give them up!" 

"Then you will continue to fan the flames of resentment in them," Essex said. "You drive them further from you with every move you make. You are eternal woman; learn some patience. They will return, despite your bumbling. They need me to guide them. When their children begin to suffer for their ignorance they will either break or they will return. Until then you will make yourself useful, one way or another," Sinister said with a significant look at the containment cells lining the walls of his laboratory. 

"You'll regret treating me like this," Candra declared backing down. 

****** ****** ****** 

Remy glanced up and down the lonely Texas road then roundly cursed the broken-down motorcycle. It was scrub and sagebrush to the horizon in every direction and he would be in for one hell of a long, hot walk if he couldn't get the bike running again. 

With a sigh the russet haired teen began poking tentatively at the bike, cursing when the hot metal burned him, wishing he knew more about engines than how to start them without keys. In the past that had always been more than enough, Remy had never owned a vehicle in his life, he didn't even have a driver's license, although he'd been driving for years and was closer to seventeen than sixteen. 

He'd thought about going to the DMV and taking the test back while he'd been with the X-Men, but had decided it would raise too many questions when he couldn't produce any sort of ID, let alone a legal one. Remy smiled darkly at the image of himself referring them to Georgia's PD and the mug shots they'd taken when they picked him up for pick-pocketing for proof of his identity. Getting arrested had seemed like a good idea at the time and he'd enjoyed the look on Scalphunter's face as the police had driven him out of the Marauder's carefully constructed trap. Blowing out the back wall of the general holding cell where they'd dumped him had been entertaining as well. 

Still it had seemed like more trouble than it was worth, then he met his family and ended up deciding that the best solution was to ask Henri to forge ID for him, just as soon as he managed to talk his older cousin around to the idea of improving his birth date a little. In a similar vein of thinking he'd never been interested in learning how to fix cars, not when it was easier just to steal a new one… "Jus' s' long as deir was 'nother one 'round to steal," Remy grumbled to himself taking a half-hearted kick at the recalcitrant bike. 

His mood picked up at the rattle of an engine in the distance. Remy settled his sunglasses more firmly over his eyes then stepped to the edge of the road, waving his arms and trying to look young and harmless. 

To his delight the beat up old truck slowed to a halt a few feet away from him. Remy smiled. "Maybe m' luck isn't as hellish as I t'ought," he thought. Then the vehicle's driver step out to confront him and Remy paled. 

The man was only a few inches taller than Remy now, but where the teen was built lean; this man was heavily muscled and bulky. A thick shock of shaggy black hair crowned a hard, weathered face. 

Remy backed away reaching for a weapon as he dropped into a defensive stance. 

"Easy kid, I just want to help," Scalphunter said holding up his hands to show they were empty and Remy remembered that Xavier had brainwashed the man. He considered the possibility that Scalphunter's conditioning was holding better than Magneto's had. 

Remy forced himself to appear more relaxed; he straightened from a fighters crouch but maintained his distance. "T'anks for stoppin'," he said. 

"I could hardly have you stranded out here, you probably wouldn't have made it to town walking in this heat. You really shouldn't drive a clunker like that bike in a place like this. Besides, you looked familiar. Call me Crow by the way." 

Remy shifted nervously as Crow took a closer look at the bike. "S' yo' stop for every homme who 'minds yo' of someone?" he asked. 

"Lately? Yeah," Crow replied. "Damnedest thing, really. Here I am going about my life, happy as a clam then I meet this girl. We're dating, doing the whole getting to know each other dance and she asks me where I lived before moving there and hell if I can remember. Funny thing was I never gave it a second's thought till that moment. Afterwards it's all I can think about, cause it turns out I don't remember nothing of the past dozen years or so. Before long I'm going out of my skull trying to figure it out, can't concentrate on my work, my hobbies don't hold any interest, I'm driving off my friends, my whole life is just going to crap. So one night I just toss a bunch of cloths in my truck and start driving, letting my subconscious lead the way." 

"S' how'd dat work out?" Remy asked cautiously. 

"Well I found you, so have we met before?" Crow asked his tone caught between wry self-mockery and forlorn hope. 

" 'M sorry mon ami, ain't nevah seen yo' 'fore today," Remy lied. 

"Damn," Crow said. "I've got some tools in the truck, I think I can get your bike running again." 

"Merci," Remy said his own curiosity rising as his fear abated. "S' what'd yo' do 'fore yo' started lookin' for yourself?" 

"I was a mechanic, not the most exiting line of work but I was good at it," Crow said pulling out a toolbox and walking back to Remy's bike. 

"Were yo' happy?" Remy asked trailing behind Crow, carefully maintaining the distance between them. 

"I suppose, wasn't unhappy in any case," Crow said. "You're wondering why I left aren't you? Why I uprooted my whole existence to chase after something that's over and done." 

"Oui. What if yo' don' like what yo' find? What if yo're bettah off not knowing?" 

Crow set to work on the bike's engine. "Whether I remember it or not, it happened, I don't like leaving myself open to being blindsided," he said after a while. "Get me a three-quarter's wrench will ya?" 

Remy dug out the requested tool then hesitated for a moment. Crow held out a hand expectantly. With a fatalistic shrug Remy edged close enough to hand the wrench to him. 

"Take off your sunglasses," Crow ordered unexpectedly. 

Remy jumped back clutching his glasses defensively. "Yo' crazy homme?" he demanded. 

"You're so familiar. I know you, I know what you're hiding." 

Remy snatched a gun from the hide out holster at the small of his back and leveled it at Crow. The big man's mouth dropped open in shock. "Stay de fuck 'way from me!" Remy snarled. 

Crow couldn't take his eyes off the gun; he stared at it like he'd never seen one before or like he'd never expected to see one in Remy's hand. "Sorry kid, you ain't him," Crow finally said. "Sorry I scared you, sometimes I just need to know so bad, it makes me crazy." 

Remy took another step back, taking a two-handed shooter's stance. 

"Look, I'm going to just go back to working on the bike, you can relax okay kid. I ain't gonna hurt you, just relax," Crow said placating. 

"Go 'head," Remy said not lowering the gun. 

Crow turned his attention back to the bike, Remy watched him work suspiciously. 

A long while later Crow stepped away from the bike, "Give her a try now," he suggested. 

Remy waved the man further back, when a safe distance had been established the teen mounted the bike. Once the engine was purring smoothly he paused, one foot still on the ground ready to take off at a moment's notice. He met Gray Crow's eyes for a moment. "Go to Millstone, Arizona," he yelled over the roar of the engine. "Ask for Claire." 

Then Remy took off in a spray of gravel, putting as much distance between them as he could before Gray Crow had the chance to respond. 

****** ****** ****** 

Lapin stood on the balcony at the club watching the dancers grimly. Delores came and stood beside him, interlacing her fingers with his. "Give him 'nother week an' Pierre'll be out dere dancin' 'gain," she said. 

Lapin's gaze fixed on Belle as her golden braids fanned around her when she spun. "Remy's dead an' it's like Belle don' care at all." 

"She's hurtin' more dan any of us," Delores defended her friend. "She don' like to show it, mais trus' me on dat. Belle does care 'bout what happened." 

A movement from the street below caught Lapin's attention. Street lamps gleamed off the russet hair of a man's down turned head. "Mon Dieu!" Lapin exclaimed in disbelief. 

At the sound of his voice the figure below glanced up, red eyes glowed in the night. 

"Remy?" Delores cried, hope filling her voice. Lapin was already clambering over the rail of the balcony. 

"Hey Lapin," Remy said smiling tentatively. "How'd it work out?" 

Lapin laughed, grabbing Remy in a rough hug. "A hell of a lot bettah dan I t'ought. Mon Dieu Rem, we t'ought yo' died." 

"Yo' weren't de only one," Remy replied breathing easier. "S' we did it, we really did it… where's Belle?" 

They turned toward a clatter of feet running down the stairs, a door opened, Belle stood frozen in the spill of light. 

"Belle?" Remy asked taking a step toward her. 

The spell broken, Belle ran to Remy, clinging tightly to him. Surprised by her uncharacteristic behavior Remy didn't respond for a moment then his arms closed around her. He rubbed her back soothingly as her shoulders shook with silent sobs. 

Remy looked at Lapin. "Everyone make it?" he asked quietly. 

"Oui, more or less. Pierre's healing bon. Dere weren' no other injuries," Lapin said. "Nathan's hangin' 'round, mais we don' know if it's 'cause of yo' or jus' dat he ain't t'ought of anywhere bettah to be." 

Remy nodded in acknowledgement. "Tell Oncle Luc I ain't dead an' I'll be by in de mornin', 'kay?" 

" 'Course," Lapin said as Remy escorted Belle into the night, one arm wrapped supportively around her waist. 

When they came to the church Remy hesitated, looking up to their nitch uncertainly. Belle slipped out of his arm and nimbly climbed up, years of familiarity showing as she ascended the stone face of the building, reaching for each foot and handhold without pause for thought. Remy followed her up and they curled up together under the stone angel's sheltering wings. 

"What's happened?" Remy asked. 

Belle buried her face against his chest, shaking her head. Remy sighed; he kissed the top of her head and held her tightly while she cried herself to sleep. 

The next morning Remy woke to find Belle rubbing away the tear stains on her cheeks, looking almost embarrassed. "Glad yo' made it back," She said noticing him watching her. "Yo' got anyt'ing planned nex' week? I got a location on some of the people fundin' dat lab, Singer and I were gonna pay dem a visit, yo' could come 'long." 

"An' do what?" Remy asked confused. "I want rien more to do wit' dem." 

"Kill dem," Belle replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world." 

"Non!" Remy exclaimed. 

"Dey took our baby, dey all gotta die," Belle insisted eyes flashing. 

"What happened?" Remy demanded. 

Belle jumped down from their spot. "I tol' yo'," she said not looking at him. "We owe dem vengeance an' blood." 

Remy went after her, catching her by the arm, worry filling his voice he said, "Yo' gotta tell me 'xactly what dey did." 

Belle jerked away. "Leave it be Remy!" She snapped, storming away. "Yo' know all yo' need!" 

Remy took two running steps after her, grabbing her shoulder and spinning her back to face him. "Chere…" he began only to have Belle turn the momentum he'd given her against him as she drove her fist into his solar plexus. The wind knocked out of him, Remy went to his knees gasping. 

"It's deir fault!" she yelled. "Dat's all dat mattahs!" 

" 'Nough Belle!" Remy yelled back as soon as he had breath. He used a hand as a pivot and kicked her legs out from under her, then pinned her. "Stop it an' listen!" 

With an inarticulate shriek a knife slipped into Belle's hand and she plunged it into Remy's chest. Shock drove them apart. For a moment both teens just stared at the knife and the growing bloodstain around it. Slowly Remy reached up to touch the hilt as if he couldn't believe it was real. His fingers wrapped around it for a heartbeat then fell away. 

"Remy!" Belle screamed catching him as his lost consciousness. " 'M sorry, 'm sorry!" she cried easing him to the ground. She wrapped her jacket around the knife applying pressure to stop the bleeding as she pled. "Don' die. I didn' mean it, please don' die." 

****** ****** ****** 

Josette stared at the blond girl standing on the doorstep nervously playing with a braid. "Yo' got a death wish girl?" she asked. 

"How's Remy?" Belle replied in a subdued voice. 

"How yo' t'ink? Yo' put a blade wit'in an inch of his heart," Josette said. 

"Henri said I couldn't come to de hospital," Belle said. "It's been a week, dey have to know somet'ing." 

Josette sighed. "Jean-Luc called a couple of hours 'go. Remy's stable, he even woke up for a bit. He asked for yo' 'pparently, dat's what mon frere was crusin' 'bout anyways." 

"Merci," Belle started back down the driveway then asked. "Yo' gonna go see him?" 

"Why, we'd jus' fight," Josette said with an unhappy grimace. 

****** ****** ****** 

Belle sat on the window ledge outside of Remy's hospital room. Normally both the Thieves and Assassins preferred Tante Mattie's care to a doctor's, but they didn't normally end up in the sort of fights that left one person bleeding on the front steps of a church and the other, torn between guilt and panic, screaming for help. The official story she'd given the police was a mugging turned ugly. She didn't know if they had believed her or not, but they knew better than to press the issue and that was what mattered. 

When Belle was certain Remy was alone she jimmied the window open and crawled inside. Their eyes met across the darkened room. "Like day old coals, so different from normal" she thought wanting to flinch away from Remy's eyes for the first time. 

"I didn't mean it," she said. 

"I know," Remy replied quietly. "Can we talk now?" 

Belle turned back to the window. "What do yo' want to hear?" she asked. "Dat it was m' fault? Dat I should've trusted yo' to rescue me? Dat I shouldn've been careless? Dat I shouldn've taken de damn job in de firs' place? I know all dat! I know I let it happen, dat it's m' fault. Mais it's deir fault too. 'M a'ready bein' punished, feels like m' heart's torn out of m' chest, dey should feel de same. 'M sorry Remy, 'm sorry, I kilt our baby." 

"Belle!" Remy called, but the blond girl had already disappeared into the night. "Dat wasn' what I meant," he finished to himself. "Dat was * nevah * what I meant." 

****** ****** ****** 

Singer grabbed the cell phone before it could wake its owner. Belle had climbed through her window face streaked with tears a half hour earlier, she'd stammered out a few nearly incoherent sentences about Remy and the baby then cried herself to sleep. 

"Quoi?" Singer asked answering the phone. 

"Singer? Why yo' got ma Belle's phone?" Remy asked his voice worried. 

Singer took one last look at Belle then went into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. "Belle don' want to talk to yo'," she said. 

"She didn' understand Singer," Remy protested. "I nevah thought it was her fault, nevah!" 

"Den why yo' keep pressin' dis?" Singer demanded. "She don' want to talk 'bout it! Ain't yo' got de message yet?" 

"I know de sort of people dat were holdin' her," Remy said. "She's got to tell me 'xactly what happened." 

"Belle don' gotta do anyt'ing she don' want." 

"Yo' don' understand, jus' cause dey took de baby don' mean its dead, yo' don' know de sort of t'ings dey can do," Remy said. 

For a moment Singer was silent, wondering if it were worth getting Belle's hopes up. "We saw your powers cuttin' loose," she finally said. "How much of de place were still standin' when yo' got it under control?" 

"Your point Singer?" Remy asked coldly. 

"Even if dey didn' kill de chile, what are de chances yo' didn' by accident?" Singer asked. "Belle's m' bes' friend. I ain't goin' to let yo' put her t'rough dis 'gain." 

Silence stretched across the line as Remy processed what she'd said, then Singer heard his phone clattering to the floor as it was unceremoniously dropped. A moment later she heard the sound of retching in the background. 

Singer disconnected then erased Remy's call from the log and went to replace Belle's phone. 

****** ****** ****** 

Josette woke to the sound of a hesitant knock on her bedroom door. She grabbed a dressing gown and opened the door to find herself confronting her son. "Yo're su'osed to be in de hospital," she said, startled. 

Remy's eyes glowed sullenly in the dim light of the hallway, there was a faint catch in his breathing and his hand was pressed against his wound as if he were in pain. He didn't seem to register her words. "Yo' win," he said softly. "Yo're de bettah pa'nt. I lived didn' I? Yo' didn' kill me." 

Josette felt a shiver of alarm creep up her spine. "Does Jean-Luc know yo're home?" she asked. 

" 'M leaving," Remy said. "Dis is Belle's town, ain't causin' her any more pain." 

"Remy, yo' listenin' to me t'all boy? Yo' gotta talk to Jean-Luc or Tante Mattie. Yo' can't jus' dump dis on me! I don' know what to say. Dey know how to handle t'ings, I don'." 

For the first time Remy really looked at Josette. "A'ready talked to Oncle Luc," he lied. "Jus' wanted to tell yo', yo' weren' as bad a pa'nt as I t'ought. Mais bettah dan me at any rate, not dat dat's sayin' anyt'ing at all. Goodbye Josette, I ain't comin' back here no more." 

"Remy yo' can't jus' leave. I can't believe Jean-Luc jus' lettin' yo' leave. Yo' shouldn' even be out of de hospital," Josette protested. 

"He did, jus' go back to bed," Remy cried. 

"Non, dis whole t'ing ain't…" Josette began only to be cut off abruptly as Remy punched her. 

Hissing with pain as his stitches protested the movement, Remy caught Josette as she passed out. "Why'd yo' have to choose now to give a damn?" he demanded dragging her back inside her room. With a sigh he shut the door behind him and vanished into the night. 

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